The Marriage Curse
by Pregiera
Summary: Afflicted with an age-old family curse cast by his own father, Draco Malfoy is unwillingly forced to find a wife after he becomes of age. As a result, unexpected and dangerous secrets are uncovered when he crosses paths with the one person he least expects to become his betrothed.
1. Prologue

**Full Summary: **Afflicted with an age-old family curse cast by his own father, Draco Malfoy is unwillingly forced to find a wife after he becomes of age. As a result, unexpected and dangerous secrets are uncovered when he crosses paths with the least likely person he expects to become his betrothed.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own HP. Yadda, yadda.

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**PROLOGUE**

For anyone to say that the life of a pure-blood heir was easy spoke not the truth. Draco Malfoy knew about the deceit, the bevy of lies, and plays for power that existed to maintain status in his world, but on the cusp of becoming a young man, he had very little power of his own, knew all too well about deceit first hand, and had been apart to more lies to than anyone he knew around him. His life was far from perfect. His life was far from easy. And looking at the contract in front of him, he now felt helpless. His choices were grim. Either fall prey to his father's threats and sign the bloody thing or face the wrath of one Lucius Malfoy if we went against his wishes.

Hearing the urgings of his father to take his wand in hand, he swallowed heavily and looked at the family across the table from him. Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were a nice enough as pure-bloods went. Their eldest daughter Daphne was in his year at Hogwarts, and their youngest daughter Astoria was only two years below. They were arranging for he and Astoria to marry as soon as they both turned of age, and all that remained was his magical signature to commit to the deal.

But he couldn't do it. He wanted to finish school, beat Potter at Quidditch, and maybe find a witch to call his own someday. After all, he was human despite what the rest of Hogwarts thought of him. Draco was no different than any other fifteen-year-old boy when you stripped away his wealth and influence. He wasn't his father. Draco may not have understood what love entailed at his young age, but he was certainly intelligent enough to understand that he wanted to find it on his own later in life. He knew that his parents had little love for one another and were joined by a similar arrangement as well. He wanted nothing of it.

His breath rattled in his chest as his heart thumped with panic. His eyes settled on Astoria, who sat dutifully next to her mother. She smiled innocently at Draco, unaware of the fact that her parents were so willing to sign her life away. If he were to sign, then her life would be over... _forever_. Both would be slaves to a loveless marriage.

Draco fought back the bile that crept into his throat as he listened to the hissed threats of his father next to him, feeling the piercing jab of his father's wand at his side just out of view. To his relief, Draco had to sign willingly; otherwise, he was certain that Lucius Malfoy would have used the Imperius Curse on him by now.

As all eyes settled on him anxiously, Draco violently scraped his chair along the stone floor as he pushed himself from the table. Darting out of his seat, he ran down the hall toward his father's study, bursting through the doors as his breath became labored from both exertion and fright. With startled surprise, Lucius had been hot on his tail, and as Draco turned to face him, he met the swift backhand of his father as it resoundingly connected with his face. Sent reeling, Draco stumbled back and fell to the floor. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth from the his split lip that now began to throb.

"You insolent boy! How dare you defy me and disgrace the Malfoy name," he yelled at him. Draco saw rage in his father's eyes as they began to darken and cowered beneath his glare. There were few things in his life that Draco feared. His father was one of them. "The Dark Lord has risen and will demand the purest unions," Lucius continued with his voice raised. "It is best you do this willingly or the consequences will be grave. I will not suffer punishment at his hands for your disobedience."

"How can you force me to marry a child, Father? Pick someone else. Wait until I'm older, but please don't condemn me to this now," Draco pleaded but winced as soon as the words left him. Lucius' sharp features darkened with rage.

"There are ways to ensure compliance," he growled and then let out let out his own form of punishment, yelling _Crucio_ at his own son.

Draco tried to scream in horror as white-knives of unrelenting pain tore through his body. It wasn't the first time that Lucius had used the curse on his son, but this time, Draco felt all his father's unbridled hatred as he commanded the spell over him. This time was more painful than any other, leaving him to bear down on his down tongue to fight through the unrelenting pain. The venomous torture that his father administered should have made him fearful as it had done in the past, but instead, Draco swelled with anger and resentment as he fought back tears. How could any man do this to their son?

"Will you abandon this foolishness?" Lucius asked when he released the spell.

"No," Draco seethed as the pain of the curse still lingered deep in his bones. His voice was thick when he tried to speak, but the look of hatred he gave his father said everything.

"In that case..._Animas Defixio_!" Lucius cried out, this time over his son's mangled body on the floor. Sparks of amber exploded from the tip of his wand and bathed Draco briefly in light before it faded.

Slipping into unconsciousness, Draco heard the fleeting words of his father say, "It is done..."

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**A/N:** So, my dedicated readers, I've started a new story. Don't fret! I'm still working on Serendipity which will be updating soon. But expect that I will be updating this plus the other.

Dealing with some real life issues, I found myself feeling a a little burned out with my writing. I started this story as a break from the other to help explore some ideas I had for another story and work through some issues I had with the other. Anywho, this is definitely romance with a bit of drama and some mystery. As always... reviews are welcomed.


	2. 1:Three Years Later

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Three Years Later...**

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station as Draco was nudged softly from his slumber. He had fallen asleep shortly after the meeting in the prefect carriage upon selecting a quiet compartment to sit with his two closest friends. Theodore Nott being one and Blaise Zabini the other. Blaise was the more animated of the two and often shared jokes whereas the other was the quiet sort and much more clever than Draco at times. And had Draco had his wits about him, he would have found a way to leave home before that dreadful sixth-year. If had it to do over, he would have remained neutral during the war like his two friends. While Blaise wasn't near as brilliant as either of them, even he had the common sense to steer clear of Voldemort and the war itself.

Thinking of the meeting from earlier, Draco found it ironic that Professor McGonagall had made him prefect for his final year. The war was over, and she had confided in him over the summer that it was an excellent opportunity to show Hogwarts and the wizarding world that his pardon had not been wasted on him. It was a chance to learn from and right his mistakes. Merlin knows he had made plenty of them.

Earlier that summer, his family stood trial for their role in the war. Harry Potter himself had vouched for Draco's mother, indicating that her decision to lie to the Dark Lord had been pivotal in bring the war to an end. As for himself, Hermione Granger, of all people, disclosed a passionate story about her torture at Malfoy Manor and how Draco refused to identify them when they were captured by Snatchers. Many in the courtroom looked at the young man with pity when she recalled the look of fear and remorse in his eyes as his deranged aunt tortured her. She pleaded with the Wizengamot to show mercy and allow him to grow beyond his childhood mistakes. There was little doubt in her mind that his misdeeds were committed under duress by the threatening hand of his father and Voldemort himself. There could not have been more truth to her words. He wanted to thank her after but found Weasley chiding her in the corridor outside the courtroom, disparaging her by calling her foolish and stupid for speaking on behalf of the enemy. Grateful for what she had done, it took every ounce of control not to cave the ginger's face in at his words. Draco couldn't understand how Weasel could be so cold and demeaning. As much as their past history has dictated the animosity between them over the years, even Draco knew Ron Weasley had gone too far that day. The irony of it all was not lost on Draco.

As for his father, he was let off with a light sentence. He faced house arrest for five years and and was disallowed the use of a wand, during which time if he showed good behavior he would be allowed to rejoin wizarding society. When they read the verdict, Draco's emotionless facade, which held steady through the proceedings, broke as he snorted and scowled in disbelief over their decision. The word good wasn't synonymous with the name of Lucius Malfoy. Wand or not, the man was still ruthless and still held fast to his long standing prejudices which Draco knew wouldn't change any time soon. His short stint in Azkaban after the incident in the Department of Mysteries did little for Lucius except make him more cold and distant than ever before. It was out of fear of being on the losing side that forced him to abandon Voldemort in the end. It was done out of self-preservation and nothing more.

Draco said little as he rose from his seat and stretched. Taking his bag, he followed his two friends as they exited the train. It was odd that he slept earlier without the usual recurring dream. Each time he slept he had only dreamt of the day Hermione had been tortured on the drawing room floor by his psychotic aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. Either by the hands of his father or the Dark Lord himself, it was a curse that he had endured so many times himself. He was guilt-ridden despite Hermione's open display of forgiveness and knew that he would never be able to forgive himself for the cowardice he showed that day. But today had been different. He dreamt of something that he had not thought of in years. It was a vivid recollection of a day that occurred roughly three years ago.

When Draco returned to Malfoy Manor after the war, his father spoke again of marriage, urging that he fulfill his duty as heir by taking a bride. Once he had tried to force Draco into an arrangement with Astoria Greengrass, but the age-old curse he cast on his son that fateful night ended up halting all negotiations much to his father's dismay. Lucius was beside himself with rage, thinking that the spell would choose wisely the younger Greengrass sister as intended. However, when forced to impart a gentleman's favor of a kiss at wand point, nothing happened when Draco's lips touched the back of the young witch's hand. Whatever his father's intentions had been that night, it backfired brilliantly in Draco's favor, and he found himself breathing easier knowing that he would be spared an immediate commitment to the girl or any other. Despite this, he was not rid of Lucius' insistence to find a wife with which he urged with gainful insistence since he had turned seventeen. Forced compliance still lingered in the form or an unwanted curse, much to his own chagrin. And as much as it displeased him to comply, Draco forced himself to attend balls and lavish parties held at the Manor at the behest of his father, engaging with every eligible pure-blooded witch in attendance. It was Lucius' hope that among them, his son's betrothed would be found, but like before, his father felt the sting of disappointment and reminded Draco of his failure when he came away empty-handed each time. This time, thankfully, Draco was spared any torture. It was a blessing that Lucius hadn't possessed a wand. Nevertheless, tired of his cajoling and threats, Draco moved out of Malfoy Manor two weeks prior to school and took up residence in a stately, four story home in Pembridge Square, Notting Hill that had been left to him by his godfather, Severus Snape. It had once belonged to Eileen Prince, a pure-blood witch and Severus' mother. Why Snape remained at the ramshackle house in Spinner's End, Draco never knew. The former Hogwarts Potions Master, who had been more a father than Lucius, left it to Draco after his death, much to the younger Malfoy's surprise.

The _Matrimonium Maledictionem_, or Marriage Curse, was very much at the forefront of Draco's mind since that fateful summer. Its use had fallen out of practice among pure-blood families since he was outlawed by the Ministry. His own family had not used it in several generations since the law's passing. At one time, the curse was placed on unwilling pure-blood heirs who failed to comply with the family's demands to continue the family lineage. However, there was a reason that such magic should have been left to the annals of the past. Each curse was unique to every pure-blood family and were twisted for their own nefarious uses, their origins rooted some of the most ancient and guarded magics, most of them Dark in nature. It was barbaric in Draco's eyes, yet he had been submitted to it just same. Find a wife once of age or slowly watch his magic fade away. That was the outcome. Unfortunately, time was ticking away much too fast for Draco, and he was no closer to finding his betrothed now than he was the day he turned seventeen. Some days he regretted not entering into a contract to marry Astoria, knowing the fate awaited him. The slow loss of magic over the last year alone had become noticeable.

Walking along the platform next to the train, Draco haphazardly ran into someone which broke him out of his reverie. Towering over the witch he had collided with, he found himself off-balance, nearly toppling to the ground with her. He looked down and saw a familiar head of honey-brown curls that had been kissed by summer and froze in place as he looked at her with shock gracing his features. A thousand thoughts came to him all at once, making him feel overwhelmed, but his tongue became thick with trepidation, leaving him unable to speak. The same occurred during the prefect meeting, and he found himself averting his gaze.

"Are you going to stand there all day or help me up?" Hermione asked with a bit of laughter in her voice at her own clumsiness.

"I'm sorry," Draco pardoned himself quietly as he pulled her up by her extended hand. He said nothing more as he helped the witch to her feet and was surprised when she gifted a faint smile of gratitude at the gesture. He half-expected her to yell at him for being rude. However, when he said nothing, she quickly turned her focus to a group of first-years who were waiting for Hagrid. Hurrying himself to catch up with Blaise and Theo, he left her behind, missing a ghost of a smile that graced her lips, satisfied that their encounter had been civil.

"What the bloody hell are those?" Draco burst out, shocked as he looked at the carriage in front of them. Theo and Blaise looked at one another with raised brows wondering what had drawn their friends attention and horror. Realizing what had drawn the self-guiding carriages in previous years, Draco felt sick. Thestrals. Only those that witnessed death first hand saw them. He shivered at the sight of their skeletal frame and leathery wings. They were a stark reminder of the war.

"They're just carriages," Theo said with a snigger. "Please don't tell me that you've gone all nutters on us. We just got here and classes haven't even started yet."

"I think he sees the Thestrals," Blaise whispered to Theo whose lips made a resigned "O", realizing what had been said. Theo reached over and clapped Draco's shoulder in encouragement before silently climbing into the carriage as the two piled in after him.

The ride to the castle was somber with nary a word shared between them. They knew there was lingering animosity toward Slytherins and for Draco in particular. It rippled under the surface of forced civility. Those who spoke to Draco were not unkind but showed no outward effort to bestow any token of a truce either. One wrong move or word on his part and Draco was sure the proverbial dam would break with those holding old grudges showing their true colors once more.

In the Great Hall, the typical clamor of voices commenced with only a momentary pause as Draco entered with his two friends. Once they took their seats at the far end of the Slytherin table, talk resumed but at a much more subdued volume. Much was the same this year as first-years were sorted and the Headmistress gave her speech, welcoming the students to another year. However, not all traditions would be the same. Despite being a prefect, Draco would not be assigned to Slytherin. Instead, he and the three other eighth-year prefects—one from each house—had been selected to help the heads with duties that year and were intented to work closely with them. As for the two in question, Hermione Granger had been named as Head Girl while Neville Longbottom had been named as Head Boy. Hermione was an obvious choice while Neville was a surprisingly disappointing one as far as Draco was concerned, but he was sure that McGonagall had her reasons. Perhaps slaying old Voldy's annoying snake had done wonders for the bumbling Gryffindor after all.

Another change that was welcoming was the fact that all eighth-years would be housed in a separate dormitory due to the overflow of students returning that year. Reflective of their new status, all eighth-years were permitted to wear nondescript Hogwarts robes, unless they had preferred to retain their House colors, and had an extended curfew with unlimited access to Hogsmeade so long as they did not abuse the privilege. It was a welcome change and signified that they were more than than just mere students. They were now young adults.

The changes were fortunate for Draco as he did not want to room in his old dormitory. Too many Slytherins either hated or feared him, calling him Death Eater and blood traitor alike, and he did not want to deal with the incessant remarks and belligerent stares or meet an unsuspecting fate as he slept deep in the dungeons one night. Many still harbored deep-seated grudges for his betrayal at the end of the war, knowing that he had abandoned the typical prejudices held amongst his fellow Slytherins. And while Draco was sure he would have to deal with his fair share of animosity from Hogwarts at-large, he far preferred dealing with the other three Houses than those of Slytherin. In all, Draco just wanted to conduct his year peacefully and leave Hogwarts with an upstanding mark next to his name. If left with only the occasional insult of "ferret" or "slimy git" versus being cursed to death in his sleep, then he considered himself lucky and thought of it as a welcomed alternative.

As Professor McGonagall led them to their new dorm, disapproving looks were cast at he and his fellow Slytherins but most were focused on him. This year, Draco would be accompanied by Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Tracy Davis in their new accommodations. Pansy, who was admittedly taunting and abrasive over the years, had softened her demeanor and even smiled once or twice at the other students when they acknowledged her presence however cold their greeting. Blaise and Theo retained their stoic, emotionless features but would occasionally nod politely or answer briefly if asked a question by one of the other students. They were civil and nothing more. Tracy, who had always been a quiet girl, laughed mirthfully at a joke she inadvertently overheard as told by one of the Gryffindors. Overall, no one seemed particularly bothered by their general presence save for Seamus Finnigan who continued to glower at Draco suspiciously.

As for the other students, fifteen in all had returned to complete their final year. Hufflepuff saw the return of Ernie Macmillan, Zacharias Smith, and Hannah Abbot, whereas Ravenclaw saw the return of Padma Patil, Terry Boot, and Michael Corner. Curiously, Padma was without her sister, something Draco would have to subversively inquire about later. Finally in attendance were Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas along with Hermione and Neville, who were elsewhere, rounding out the Gryffindors in their year. Thankfully, Weasel wasn't there, but Draco already knew the he and Potter had declined the offer to return and had not expected to see them there this year.

Approaching the portrait to their dormitories, Professor McGonagall gave the password, allowing it to open. Each filed through the portrait hole without word, taking in the common room before them. It was mostly neutral in color but had hints of each house in subtle tones as plush, comfortable seating complimented its overall features. Warm and welcoming, a fire crackled lazily in the large fireplace at one end. As the Headmistress reviewed their rights and responsibilities as young adults, Draco toned out the boring monologue and inspected his surroundings, taking in all the details, but soon his welcomed distraction came to an end as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, regaining his attention.

"While quite remarkable, I do believe you will have ample time to explore your new accommodations later, Mr. Malfoy," she reprimanded but not before pressing her lips into a faint smile as Draco quietly apologized. "This year, I will expect each of you to help the heads with their duties. With the increased number of students this year, both Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom will be unusually busy and overwhelmed in their duties. The staff wishes to provide fun and productive atmosphere this year. I think you all can agree that the last few years have been trying at best," she said as her eyes shot between the four prefects assigned to assist the heads that year.

Biting back a snort, Draco knew the last thing Hermione Granger had never been was overwhelmed... _by anything_. As inappropriate as the thought was, if Hermione Granger could withstand being repeatedly tortured by Aunt Bella without breaking—it went without saying that there were known Death Eaters who caved under less—then he was sure that she could handle anything. He shuddered at the morbid thought momentarily, attempting to push it from his mind. A more pleasant thought of Hermione drafting the year's tasks and duties upon receiving her letter drifted into view as he turned his attention back to the old woman in front of him.

"If there aren't any other questions, I'll leave to find your rooms. Have a good evening," McGonagall said and took her leave. Most of the students had already wandered away, leaving behind two very irritated Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw who took exception to Draco's presence.

"We don' want any problems ou' of ye this year, Ferret," Seamus threatened as he stepped up to Draco. Padma and Dean nodded in agreement at either side.

Draco nodded once and attempted to walk past the three without challenge but was met with a hard shove instead. "Did you hear what I said, Ferret?" Seamus snapped.

"If you're looking to provoke a fight, you will find none with me," Draco said as calmly, trying to show as little irritation as possible. "Now, if you don't mind I'd like to find my room. It's been a long day." Draco attempted to walk past Seamus again, but the Gryffindor grabbed him by the arm, forcefully yanking him back.

"Not so fast, Malfoy," Seamus continued. "You're goin' to be working with Granger this year. We all know how much ye hate Mudbloods."

"Are you daft, Finnigan?" asked Draco, giving them an incredulous glare. "Think about it. Why would I hate Granger? She bloody testified for me."

"You and your family—"

"And _don't_ call Granger a Mudblood," Draco snarled, promptly cutting off Dean while directing a threatening glare at Seamus. Padma gasped, gaping at Draco. "What? Don't look so shocked, Patil. I haven't used that word in years. I'm _not_ my father. Now, if you'll unhand me, I'm going to find my room." Wrenching his arm out of Seamus' grasp, he turned on his heel allowing his robes to flare dramatically in his wake, leaving the stunned students behind.

Seamus called after him. "We're watching ye, Malfoy. Harry and Ron told us to keep an eye on ye. One wrong move and you're finished, Ferret."

"Lovely," Draco muttered while making a rude gesture at the Irishman over his shoulder. Climbing the stairs, Draco quickly found his room and entered it, slamming the door behind him.


	3. 2: September 2, 1998

**CHAPTER TWO**

**September 2, 1998**

The next morning at breakfast, Draco rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he stared at his plate in front of him. He had been subjected to another round of disturbing dreams courtesy of the war and had gotten very little sleep as a result. At dawn, he had decided that he wasted enough time staring at the unfamiliar shadows in his room and reluctantly drug himself out of bed before dressing in his nondescript Hogwarts robes. It was in his drowsy state that he had found his way amongst a handful of early risers as he shuffled into the Great Hall, but now alone at his table, he took in the various faces that sought seclusion as they ate, noticing that many appeared as haggard as he with little doubt as to what ailed them. Seventh-years or above, they were all participants in the very same war no matter their allegiances or side. In the aftermath, it had taken its toll on everyone in equal measure. There was very little reasoning to suspect that they all suffered the same affliction as himself although in varying ways. Nightmares, horrid dreams, and reminders of friends and loved ones lost. It was all the same.

Picking at the unappetizing eggs on his plate, he was greeted by a familiar voice that softly called to him, breaking him out of his reflective solitude. Looking up, Draco saw Hermione standing opposite him across the table.

"If you would be so kind to give these to the prefects in your house, I would appreciate it," Hermione said casually while extending to him a small stack of parchment held delicately in her hand. Draco took the obvious list of patrol schedules without word and acquiesced to her request with a polite nod before watching her walk away. Thumbing through the stack, he found his copy. He had patrols Wednesdays and Fridays with Hermione in the dungeons, beginning that night. He observed her for a brief moment as she filled her own plate and ate while reading a book before her at her table. Draco sighed and reluctantly tucked into his own food that now sat cold in front of him.

Once the Great Hall was reasonably full, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo decided to finally show themselves. The four now sat together in a huddled mass at the far end of their table away from the other Slytherins. Tracy sought the company of her own friends as opposed to joining them. It was no surprise that she sat elsewhere rather than joining the four. She and Pansy were no longer as close as they once were years earlier, and the girl had little else in common with Draco or the other two young men. Her family had shown little involvement in the war, whereas Draco, Pansy, and Theo all had fathers who were Death Eaters. Never mind the fact that Draco had been a Death Eater himself. As for Blaise, it was guilt by association, but he secretly confided in the group that he hadn't much tolerance for Tracy anyway, expressing his dislike for the girl. Whether or not his words rang true, Draco was uncertain. If anything, Blaise's bravado was reflective of a bruised ego having been turned down by the girl when he asked her out during their fifth-year.

Receiving their term schedules from Professor Slughorn, Draco was relieved to have the same classes as each of his friends minus Divination that Pansy still seemed to enjoy. The four of them would be starting the day with Double Potions in the castle dungeons, but before he could begin his day, Draco needed to retrieve his books and returned to his room to collect his bag. Unfortunately, the letter he received at breakfast had not been enough to his father's liking as he would soon discover.

Upon entering his room, Draco saw an owl waiting for him as it pecked at the sill of his window, waiting to be let in. Attached to its leg was most likely another useless missive from Lucius, chiding him once again for his failure since Draco had yet to reply to any of his father's owls since he left the Manor that summer. Taking the letter from the eager owl, he sat on his bed while staring at the all too familiar crest stamped into its wax seal before casting it aside unopened. Flopping back against the crumbled silk linens of his of his four-poster bed, Draco stared up aimlessly at the suspended tester of it, wishing for anything to be rid of the curse and his father's persistence. Little did he realize his exhaustion as his begging body drug him effortlessly into much needed sleep.

# # #

"Bloody bollocks!"

Draco shot upright and checked at the time. His class had started ten minutes ago, and he was late. Not brothering with his appearance, he grabbed his bag and tore out of the dormitory with alarming speed, nearly knocking over two Gryffindor fifth-years who were equally as late for whatever class of their own. Draco quickly apologized as he spun around the two, leaving them stunned in the wake of the notorious Slytherin's unusual mea culpa.

"Bugger all to hell," he hissed under his breath as he ran toward the dungeons. Luckily, most students were already in their classes and only a few cast lingering stares as he ran, watching as he muttered profanities along the stairs and throughout the corridors. While he had often been late for class under Snape, Draco could not afford to be tardy under Slughorn. Despite being Head of House for Slytherin, the man had blatantly disassociated himself from the Malfoys after Dumbledore's death—no matter how wealthy and influential they had once been or for the fact that Lucius Malfoy had been a member of the old man's precious club decades earlier. Rest assured, the man would surely dock points from Slytherin upon his late arrival.

Rounding the corner that led to the dungeons, Draco tore down the last stretch of corridor, only to stop momentarily to smooth his appearance before entering the classroom. Breathing a sigh of relief, he noticed that Professor Slughorn was curiously absent and released the breath he had been holding since his arrival. Yet, there was little time to relax, and he shifted awkwardly under the weight of stares as many of the students focused on him in the doorway. After stealing the nearest seat available, he began retrieving his Advanced Potion-Making book and parchment from his bag, moving seamlessly about his business as usual. It took him a moment to realize who occupied the seat next to him and averted his gaze as whispers grew around him over his odd choice in seating. Hermione appeared engrossed while writing out a lengthy set of notes and remained oblivious to his presence. Behind him, Pansy and Theo sniggered as one of them tossed a crumpled up piece of parchment, hitting Draco in the head.

"You look like hippogriff shite, mate," whispered Theo while leaning over his table toward Draco. Pansy took in Draco's appearance with an amuse smile before making a discreet gesture, passing subtle hints to her friend. Theo continued to titter with suppressed laughter as Draco cast her a puzzled grimace, prompting her to clear her throat loudly thus repeating the gesture with much more vigor. Draco took the hint, running his hand curiously over his hair.

"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, dragging a pale hand over his mishapped locks which seemed nearly as bad as Potter's. Pansy wrinkled her nose and watched as Draco licked his palm before attempting to smooth his unruly hair which jutted from his scalp at odd angles. Stifling a giggle, Pansy instinctively reached over to help him, but with his Seeker-like reflexes, Draco managed to sway out of reach, doing the deed himself instead. Draco was a bit irritated with her constant mothering since their return although he was thankful for the hint she had just given him.

The din of whispers that continued throughout the exchange with his friends quickly ceased, bringing all to attention as the sound of the room's door as it slammed on its hinges. Sweeping into the room with all the grace his enormous girth would allow, the corpulent figure of Professor Slughorn instructed his students to open their books to the page listed on the board in front of them. "You will be working with the person next to you today during this lesson," he added with a good-natured flare.

Met with a sea of groans and verbal protests, the professor took up his usual spot at the front of the classroom. Meeting the barbed expression of his instructor, Draco turned to his partner, finding himself nearly eye to eye with the inquisitive brunette as she looked at him with a hint of mirth and query. He subconsciously smoothed his hair and then his robes, wondering if she had been put off by his abnormally unkempt appearance.

"What?" he mimed when she failed to look away.

A faint smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she ceremoniously rolled her eyes at him. "I'll get the ingredients. You can set up the cauldron," Hermione ordered. While assertive, her words lacked her usual bossiness he'd come to expect, leaving Draco staring aimlessly at her unoccupied seat in a daze as she walked away.

"What?" Draco snapped when another crumpled ball of parchment hit his head from behind.

"Granger didn't freak out. She knows you're her partner right?" asked Theo while leaning over his table to avoid shouting at his friend.

"Of course, you arse."

"It's bloody weird. Why didn't she throw a fit?"

"Piss off. Don't you have a potion to work on?" Draco hissed in response, putting an end their conversation.

Attempting to ignore their muttered sympathies, Draco cringed as Pansy called him "Drakie-Poo", knowing his distaste for the horrid nickname. While their persistent teasing was lighthearted, it was a source of aggravation just the same. Choosing to ignore their ribbing, Draco pulled out a standard size 2 cauldron for his assignment only to find his efforts belayed as another ball of parchment sailed past his ear, landing on the table in front of him.

Beyond irritated with their constant interruptions, Draco spun dangerously in his seat, hissing at source of his agitation. However, Theo was quick to point at Blaise forcing Draco to shift his icy glare to the Italian Slytherin one table over. Blaise wagged his brows suggestively as Hermione swept by his table, her hands full of jars and vials and fully oblivious to the bawdiness aimed after her fleeting form. Draco rolled his eyes and sneered before passing off an awkward grimace as he came face to face with the ignorant girl. Hermione smiled weakly in response before arranging each ingredient on the table before them. Assuaged by the odd but amiable gesture, his hardened expression began to fade.

As they opened their books, the two set about preparing ingredients as Draco ignited the flame under the suspended cauldron. From all appearances, Professor Slughorn intended the lesson as review since they were making an all too familiar potion they had brewed in a previous year. They were making Draught of Living Death, but this time there would be no prize involved for their efforts much to everyone's disappointment.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Hermione whispered as Draco crushed the Sopophorous beans. Knowing that the recipe called for cutting the beans, Draco shrugged revealing that his godfather had shown him how to do it after his disastrous attempt at brewing the same potion two years earlier. Little did Draco know that Potter was privy to the the same information, having had Severus' old text book in possession during that year. A knowing smile curled her lips as she continued to chop the Valerian roots beside him without dispute, perplexing Draco to no end. He had expected some sort of protest from the tightly wound know-it-all but easily dismissed the oddity of her behavior when his attention was drawn to their potion, prompting him to stir.

Throughout the class period, they worked in tandem with apparent ease which was no surprise to Draco. Both had top marks in their year with his skill in potions edging out hers only slightly. The brunette was no slouch in the subject, as he discovered, which was a welcome change. Over the years, he had been paired with Crabbe or Goyle, and their skill in potions was abysmal at best, leaving him to complete the work himself if he wanted a decent grade.

Adding the last piece of Valerian root, the two hummed with satisfaction when their potion displayed the proper consistency and color. Chuffed with their success, both looked around the room casually since they had finished their brewing early. Professor Slughorn approached them and raised his brows with delighted pleasure and surprise having assessed their concoction. He professed loudly amongst the other students that their efforts had been executed with pure precision.

"Merlin's beard! This is even better than Mr. Potter's," he exclaimed. "I would expect no less out of our two brightest students," he added jovially before walking away.

Ginny Weasley, who sat two tables over, snorted with disgust at the professor's overjoyed praise and rolled her eyes at the pair. Hermione slumped defeated as if she had been properly slapped by her best friend. Draco found himself frowning, puzzled by the bizarre exchange, but also found Weasley's loathing inescapable as he faced a malicious glare of his own. Despite taunting the Weasleys over the years, Draco's abhorrent dislike of the family had mellowed regardless of his veracious hatred for Ron which still lingered. Out of the lot, he had thoroughly enjoyed the antics of the George and Fred Weasley and even tolerated their sister at one point due to her respectable skill with a Quaffle. Sadly, he noticed that Ginny was not the same vivacious redhead that most boys admired from afar. Instead, her behavior was reminiscent of her brother, who Draco vehemently hated.

Waiting for class to finish, Draco began reading his text for Professor Flitwick's class to pass the time. Draco studied Hermione by way of a few stolen glances and noticed that she was writing furiously, taking notes for whatever subject that awaited her later in the day. Anger radiated from her as her quill scratched furiously along the parchment in front of her.

As class came to a close and they were dismissed, the Weasley girl forcefully collided with Hermione as she swept by her, knocking her books and parchment to the floor. The witch laughed malevolently as she skipped out the room with apparent glee. Hermione sank to the floor to collect her items but paused in defeat as she hovered precariously above the wreckage of her encounter. Ink began to bleed as tears dotted the crumpled parchments that laid scattered beneath her. Lending the same assistance as before, Draco held out his hand which she took willing, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Attempting to regain her composure as she brushed away brimming tears, Hermione straightened her robes in her attempts to right herself. Without giving it a second thought, Draco attentively began to gather her things before neatly placing them on the table before her.

"All right?" he asked quietly, having stood silent for several minutes while watching her. The room was empty now save for themselves, and Hermione looked at him appreciatively before nodding. "It wasn't me was it?" he asked carefully, thinking he was the source of the misplaced wrath upon her.

Hermione let out a defeated chuckle as her eyes began to fill with tears once more. Shaking her head, she began filing books and parchment into her bag, avoiding his questioning gaze. After a moment, she paused and faced him. "For once, Draco, no... but thanks for asking." There was genuine sincerity in her voice as she lightly touched his forearm. Baffled by her response, her tender gesture, and the sudden use of his first name—noting to himself how odd it sounded as it rolled off her lips—he remained frozen in place as she quickly excused herself, exiting the classroom to avoid any further explanation.

# # #

Draco rested casually beside a tapestry as he waited for Hermione to begin rounds that evening. Recalling events earlier in the day, Draco analyzed Hermione's exchange with Ginny Weasley which peaked his interest further. Throughout the day, he began to notice how the brunette was being shunned by all of her friends despite the wistful longing of her gaze that gave way to hurt as tears welled but were kept at bay. Their behavior seemed petty, from all appearances. Was it to do with her testimony earlier that summer? Hearing the rush of footsteps on the stairs, Draco looked up to see Hermione as he hurled herself down the staircase, nearly tripping as she landed with both feet at its base. If he did not know any better, she appeared to be running from something. Or worse yet... someone.

"Let's get this over with," she mumbled as she took off toward the dungeons without him, but given her short stature, his long legs caught up to her easily.

"What's the rush, Granger? Running from someone?"

"I—Not that it's any of your business... no. I just want to get this over with," she spat bitterly but halted, allowing her mangled expression of her heart-shaped face to soften as she looked at him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's been a horrible day."

Draco chuckled quietly and shook his head. "I know, but you had to eventually. I was starting to get bloody unnerved at all the niceties."

"I—"

"It was a bit of a joke, Granger. Relax."

"Sorry," she muttered under her breath.

"And stop apologizing. It's unbecoming. Especially when you have nothing to apologize for."

Draco studied at her for a moment, analyzing her appearance. Taking in the fact that her eyes were pink and somewhat puffy, he could only assume she had been crying. One thing that he had noticed about Hermione upon returning to Hogwarts was the subtle changes in her appearance. Her normally bushy hair had relaxed into a cascade of soft curls that hung down to her waist. Her body had developed into that of a young woman with ample curves, and her delicate face was devoid of any makeup, not that she needed any. It would have only hidden her stunning features. Yes, Draco was not ashamed to admit to himself that the Gryffindor Princess had grown into herself, exuding unassuming beauty. However, tonight she arrived disheveled, her hair taking on an all too familiar bushy appearance and her robes askew. All pointed to evidence of her apparent distress.

"What's got your friends all acting like a bunch of gits?"

"It doesn't concern you," she said curtly before she started walking again.

"I'm not daft, Granger. I saw Weasley's performance today in potions. What's got She-Weasel's knickers in a twist?"

Hermione rounded on Draco. "_You_, Draco Malfoy, are not going to tell _me_ who I can and cannot speak to. I get enough of that from _them_. I certainly don't need it from _you_," she said as her voice became shrill while shaking an accusatory finger at Draco.

Drawn with a look of surprise, Draco began laughing. He was probably signing his own death warrant by doing so, but for once, he saw a hint of the old Hermione that seemed to be absent since their return. Obviously, she had not expected such a reaction and dropped armed limply to her side as her brows knitted together, attempting to decipher what the Slytherin found so funny.

"Alright then," Draco conceded gracefully as he chuckled one last time. "Although, I don't believe I ever ordered such a thing. I only asked what was up with Weasel's sister."

"I don't get you," she muttered under her breath as she took off down the corridor without him. Again his lengthy stride caught up with her with ease.

"What's there to get? Seriously, I understand you're a bit brassed off—I mean, who wouldn't be—but why are you taking it out on me?" he asked, following her at a quick pace. Draco walked beside her with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. After a few stolen glances, Draco grinned, watching as her face contorted, trying to filter through whatever logic she deemed necessary to solve her quandary. He found the behavior quite amusing.

"So again, what's got She-Weasel's knickers in a twist?" he drawled, breaking the silence. When Hermione did not speak right away, he nudged her shoulder lightly, prompting her to look at him. "Look, Granger. Far be it for me say, but I think you have even fewer friends than I do at the moment, which is saying something. And I'm the biggest social pariah there is at Hogwarts these days. So, enlighten me on how the Gryffindor Princess has managed to alienate the youngest Weasley and all of Gryffindor."

"Are you making fun of me?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him.

"No."

"Why should I tell you?"

"I don't know, Granger? Maybe because I just confessed that I'm in the same boat as you. If you don't want to tell me, fine, but let's not kid ourselves. You still don't trust me. I get that. But just be honest about it, and I'll shut up." Draco stopped walking as Hermione continued. He waited for her to answer as she stopped and faced him. He saw tears in her eyes and felt guilty for speaking so harshly. Perhaps had could have had a little more tact with his answer, but it was the truth. He was done playing games and only wanted honesty. If Hermione couldn't give him that, then Draco wanted nothing from her at all.

"You want something honest?" she asked prompting Draco to nod. "_You,_ of all people?" she continued to ask in disbelief. "Here's honesty for you. Everyone keeps hanging onto the past. Is that enough honesty for you?"

"And you're moving on," was his diplomatic response.

"Precisely!" she cried indubitably as if Draco had the reached the same clarity. He watched her with rapt interest as she paced in front of him. "How hard is it to start again? Second chances. Blank slates. People lost their lives over ignorance and petty grudges."

"_Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis_," Draco quoted thoughtfully.

"Apparently not everyone, Malfoy," Hermione responded wistfully. "Are you implying something?"

Draco gave Hermione a noncommittal shrug. "I've implied nothing. I'm simply putting more eloquently that which you've already stated. Changed? War changes everyone, Granger, and not always for the better as you have so duly noted."

As they continued their rounds, he waited for her to press further. Although he hadn't given her much of an answer regarding himself, she seemed satisfied. He knew she was going to tell him, but in her own way. Evident by the tears in her eyes, it was a sore subject which was meant to be breached with care.

"The day of your trial," she began quietly. "The Weasleys didn't want me to testify. Ron was furious with me when I did."

"I remember," Draco said, his voice so low that is barely registered. Hermione looked at him with a quizzical expression, prompting him to explain. "I came outside the courtroom that day to thank you afterward and overheard what he said to you. I know he hates me. The feeling is mutual, but—"

"No... no, you're right. He does, but he's bitter for other reasons unrelated to you. The trial was merely the nail in the coffin. The Weasleys—all of them except Bill, I think—are upset with me. Harry's been wonderful, of course, but he's dating Ginny, and it's been difficult for him being in the middle. He thinks they're wrong of course. He testified for your mother after all, but it wasn't the same. I'm the one they blame."

"I'm listening, but hold that thought," Draco said as he held up his finger while approaching a nearby broom closet. Casting the door open, Draco found two seventh-year Ravenclaws disrobed amidst a heated snog. Draco cleared his throat, capturing their attention. "Aren't you a little far from Ravenclaw Tower this evening?" he asked of the two students who were attempting to cover themselves with their scattered clothing. "Twenty points from Ravenclaw... _each_... for being out after curfew and not having the common decency to use a Silencing Charm." Hermione started snickering after catching the dumbfounded faces of both students. "You can leave now," he said waiting for them to move.

Seconds passed, punctuating the awkward scene, before both students hastily stumbled out of the closet, tripping over their own feet in their attempt to redress as they ran. Hermione doubled over with laughter but stopped as soon as the Ravenclaw boy shot a disparaging remark at Draco over his shoulder.

"Twenty more points from Ravenclaw and detention this Friday with Filch," Hermione shouted after them, but the boy made a rude gesture before disappearing out of view.

"Did you see the look on their faces?" Hermione asked, trying to stifle her remaining laughter. "I wish I had a camera. Merlin, I needed that."

Draco shot her a genuine smile and shook his head when they resumed their rounds once again. Truthfully, he thought that she would have berated him for his handling of the situation but was taken aback by her delighted laughter. Furthermore, the subsequent docking of more house points on his behalf surprised him.

"You continually amaze me, Granger," he said after several moments of quiet observation. Hermione glanced at him but only briefly, appearing bewildered over his small admission. "What?" he pressed, wondering if he said the wrong thing.

"Malfoy, I do believe this is the first civil conversation we've had with one another," she pointed out.

"I think you're right," Draco admitted with a shrug. "Let's keep walking though. The sooner we're done here, the sooner we're out of the dungeons."

"Right," she said, picking up a brisk pace next to him.

Walking once again in uncomfortable silence, the only sounds to be heard were the fall of footsteps as they echoed along the chilly enclosure of the corridor around them. Draco stole glances of Hermione periodically, thinking over the beginnings of her explanation from earlier. Curiosity nagged at him, wondering what she would have said had they not been so rudely interrupted by their duties. Strange as it was, they were getting along without argument or hexes, and he dare not ruin the precarious acquaintanceship that was developing by pressuring her to divulge her innermost thoughts on a subject that appeared to be delicate in nature.

"I do have a question," Draco said suddenly, breaking the companionable silence. "Why did you choose to do patrols with me? We've never gotten along, Granger. I'm sure your friends don't approve."

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before speaking. "I overheard what Seamus said to you last night," she admitted, obviously embarrassed by the fact she had overheard the exchange. Draco looked mildly disconcerted as he frowned, obvious that he had not noticed her presence the night before. "I originally arranged the schedule so the eighth-year prefects would patrol together randomly, but after what I saw last night, I thought better of it," she attempted to explain.

"I don't need your pity, Granger. I can handle Finnigan," Draco said with a bit of edge in his voice.

"I don't pity you, Malfoy," she snapped. "I've _very_ aware of the skill you possess with a wand."

"So, this about protecting your so-called friends, is it? Protecting them from the big bad Death Eater then? Good to know," he bit back while picking up his pace away from her. At a loss, the very implication stung after he they had been getting along so well. However, before Draco could put much distance between them, he stumbled forward, nearly losing him own footing. Hermione had shoved him... and shoved him hard.

"You git!" she yelled at him as he spun on his heel to confront her. "Did you ever think that _I_ didn't want to patrol with _them_? Not everything is about _you_, Malfoy."

Draco stood beside himself, not knowing what to say. It was obvious he had made a serious error in judgment. The sinking feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach grew as tears spilled down her cheeks, ripe with anger and indignation. Nonetheless, before he could question her, she emitted a primal growl of rage as she vaulted herself at him, hitting him repeatedly with frenzied punches and mislaid slaps as he tried to duck them.

"Hex me! Hit me! Something!" she demanded as she cried out.

Managing to grab her firmly by the arms, he drug her into a nearby classroom before setting her firmly in an open chair. "Calm the hell down, Granger! Why in the bloody name of Merlin would I want to do _that_?" he growled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hermione sobbed uncontrollably as her resolve broke. The deep furrow of his brow relaxed with a hint of compassion that he rarely showed others. As she fell apart in front of him, Draco looked at her with sudden realization. She had never been abandoned by those closest to her. Draco pulled a handkerchief from robes and handed it to her, nudging her softly as her pulled her face from her hands to look up at him.

"Wipe those tears away. You're not helping yourself by crying," said Draco with a surprisingly harsh tone.

"Well, at least they have one thing right. You're still an arse," she replied while gratefully taking the token.

"Well, yes... but that's beside the point. I'm being pragmatic. Unlike most of your friends, I'm not daft. I know what is being said behind my back, especially to you," he said as she dried her eyes. "Malfoy's going to hex you. Malfoy's a slimy git. Malfoy's a Death Eater. Malfoy can't be trusted," he rattled off. "The list goes on and on, I'm sure. I've heard it all before, Granger."

"I... I'm confused."

"You really are daft then. What's so bloody confusing about being _you_? What's so confusing about showing someone compassion and decency? You either do or you don't. There's nothing confusing about it. It's who you are. You're a Gryffindor," Draco ranted in frustration. "Those git friends of yours—people who you've known for years, I might add—have suddenly abandoned you for being... well... _you_. It wouldn't be the first time that lot turned on their own. Salazar knows that I don't deserve it, but damn it, Granger... here you are, being civil, and talking to me like I'm worth a damn and not some kid branded with his father's mistakes," he stated hotly. "What pisses me off is how they are so willing to take their anger out on _you_."

"I wanted you to prove me wrong tonight," was her meek response. "I can't stand this. They won't talk to me and Ginny's changed. She only wants to prove how wrong I am. The war is over, yet everyone's acting like it never ended. Ron's always been stubborn. It was foolish to think he'd change. But this? It's too much," she said, starting to sob once more. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Weasley can go to hell. The lot of them can. Seriously. I don't want to hex you, I would never strike a witch out spite or anger, and I have no desire to fight you anymore. I'll be damned if I go through this year constantly having to constantly argue with you or anyone else. I'm tired."

Hermione nodded quietly, as errant tears still rolled down her face. She was unable to look at him, having been rightfully scolded.

"Stand up," Draco ordered, ignoring her embarrassment. "We have patrols to finish."

"What?"

"You heard me. Are you going to sit here all night feeling sorry for yourself or are you going to join me? The dungeons are a bit scary at night, and I might need some brave Gryffindor to save me," he said a bit sternly as he walked toward the door. Nevertheless, Hermione saw a humorous twinkle in eye that caused her to chuckle.

"Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy would need saving?" she quipped sarcastically.

"Well, it's been known to happen," he said dryly as he sniffed uncomfortably, all too aware of his past. "Are you coming?" he asked of her again, prompting her to nod and rise from her chair.

As the two exited the classroom, they finished their patrol in near silence, only stopping once or twice to warn or dock points from those who were out after curfew. Hermione had stopped crying, Draco thankfully noticed, and held her head a bit higher before the night was through. Hermione lacked the need for anyone to coddle her, and while his approach was not the wisest, Draco's words served their purpose, motivating her to put aside her pathetic self-pity. Draco was not her friend, by any means, but he certainly respected her even if her friends did not. And that was the part made Draco angry. Animosity toward him was one thing. It was expected. Toward her was another matter entirely and was clearly something that she was unable to deal with.

Hermione had only briefly touched on the subject of Ron Weasley. Were they still together? For her sake, Draco hoped not. He knew that he shouldn't care as much as he did—he was a Slytherin and she a Gryffindor, after all—but after seeing her go to pieces, he realized that she was no different than himself and his Slytherin companions. Each one of them had been shunned by their former friends and their house-mates, and as strange as their situation turned out to be, he was the one who still had friends while she had, from all appearances, none. And for that solitary reason, along with whatever growing respect he had developed for her, he was determined to rectify the situation if only to give her firm encouragement however harsh those words would be.

"Earth to Malfoy," Hermione said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Somehow, they managed to navigate their way back to their dormitory while Draco was lost in thought. He smiled apologetically. "Thank you for earlier," she said quietly, once she had his attention.

"Remember what I said. Forget them, Granger. Don't let them get you down," he reiterated.

"Right. Well, you know they'll be waiting to see if you killed and stuffed me in a broom closet during rounds," she said dejectedly, dreading what lie beyond the portrait in front of them.

"And they'll see you arrived back in one piece. Seriously, you need to stop worrying about what they think. Trust me on this. If I cared half as much as you do regarding what people say about me, I would've Avada'd myself by now. And as disappointing as others might find it, I've decided to stick around for a while."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, digesting his words, but did not look at him as she muttered the password for the door in front of her.

"Granger," Draco called softly, prompting Hermione to look at him one last time. "I'm not your friend, but I do give a damn about how they treat you. Call it what you will, but you did for me something that I'll never be able to repay. I'd be sitting in Azkaban if it weren't for you, and for that, I am grateful. I won't give it a second thought if you never speak to me again, but don't do it because of what they think. Don't give them the satisfaction. Decide for yourself."

Hermione gave Draco a single, meaningful nod before resting her hand lightly against his arm in thanks. The words he spoke may have been blunt, but there was no malice in them. It was a cold, hard truth that she needed to hear, and he welcomed the sincerity of her gesture when she touched him. It had happened twice in one day.

"I do have to ask one thing, Granger."

"What's that?"

"Why did you do it? You were the only one who even thought to speak for me. My own parents never even offered to plead my case. Why?"

"Because I saw in you something that no one else wanted to see," Hermione stated cryptically before she opened the portrait door. "Good night, Malfoy."

# # #

Hermione stepped through the portrait quickly, leaving Draco speechless. Following after her with the intent of asking her to explain, he stopped abruptly, discovering her own prediction to be true. A host of people were waiting in common room, eager to address her after rounds. Quickly muttering his own farewell to the Gryffindor, Draco slipped into his room and quietly closed the door behind him.

After he disappeared from sight, Ginny rounded on Hermione, "What in the hell were you doing?" Others stood around shooting disapproving looks at the Head Girl.

"It's called rounds, Ginny. If you don't mind, I'm tired and want to go to bed." Hermione started to walk toward the stairs that led to her room but stopped when Ginny continued to rant at her furiously.

"Rounds don't include going into classrooms with Ferret... _alone_," Ginny said accusingly while shaking a folded piece of parchment in her hand at Hermione.

Realizing what was clutched in the girl's hand, Hermione became furious. "Are you _spying_ on me?"

Ginny grinned spitefully while crossing her arms with some newfound satisfaction. "You're too stupid for your own good," she said mockingly. Her words mimicked those Ron used countless times after Hermione testified on behalf of Draco. The words, which once hurt, now infuriated Hermione. Walking up to the redhead, the brunette slapped her hard, and while stunned, Hermione ripped the Marauder's Map out of Ginny's hand.

"I can't believe you. All of you," Hermione screeched, pointing at each of them. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew," she added, shooting daggers at Ginny. "And you are lucky I don't hand these over to Professor McGonagall," she continued before picking up Harry's Invisibility Cloak that rested on a nearby chair.

"You can't take those," Ginny protested. "Harry gave those to me."

"I don't think Harry had _this_ in mind when he gave them to you to use. Don't worry. I'll give them to Harry on my next visit to Hogsmeade. Then _you'll_ have to explain why they are in my possession after I have a nice long chat with him."

Ginny paled. "But—"

"Don't even try, Ginny. You've brought this upon yourself," Hermione warned. "Now, if you are quite done with all this, you'll return to your dorm before I take another fifty points from Gryffindor. Good night," she spat, leaving Ginny frozen in place amongst her equally stunned friends. Hermione entered her room, slamming the door behind her.

Draco, who had been listening to the exchange from the other side of his own door, swelled with pride. "Attagirl, Granger," he muttered with approval. "Attagirl."

* * *

**A/N:** (Latin) _Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis._ — Roughly translates to: "The times change, and we change with them."


	4. 3: September 18, 1998

**CHAPTER THREE**

**September 18, 1998**

**DEATH EATER TERROR CONTINUES!**

**By A. Smudgley**

In a series of brutal attacks in recent weeks, public outcry has grown  
significantly with many members of the wizarding community  
questioning Law Enforcement leadership and the Minister of Magic,  
Kingsley Shacklebolt. Several Death Eaters, who are still at large and  
evading authorities, have conducted random yet savagely brutal attacks  
on unsuspecting Muggles and wizards alike. A stroke of luck came for  
Aurors during their latest raid when they were able to apprehend Walden  
Macnair, Death Eater. Aurors were able to obtain through questioning  
information regarding two previously unsolved murder cases involving one  
unnamed wizard and Poytr Gregorovitch, son of the legendary wandmaker.

It is believed that James Avery, Rodolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov,  
Amycus Carrow, Augustus Rookwood and three other accomplices yet to be  
named are evading capture by authorities. Rumors are also circulating around  
Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater, who is under house arrest after his  
trial this past July. However, Gawain Robards, current Head of the Auror  
Office, was quoted as saying that Mr. Malfoy is no threat to the community  
and is currently serving his sentence under the watchful eye of the Ministry  
Law Enforcement.

"We are currently looking for any and all suspicious activity from former  
associates of our listed fugitives, including Mr. Malfoy. We intend to  
question all parties and their families as necessary should we suspect any  
involvement," says Mr. Robards.

Aurors have also apprehended three other Death Eaters with the assistance  
of Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World and a member of the  
Golden Trio. Harry Potter defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in May  
of this year at the Battle of...

_(Story continues on page 4)_

Four Slytherins huddled together closely as they read the article in the _Daily Prophet_. A steady rise of whispers filled the Great Hall as suspicious glares shot in Draco's direction. Everyone was reading copies of the article as well.

"So, I guess I should expect company," Draco said dejectedly before tossing the offending paper aside.

"You don't think?" Pansy asked without filling in the necessary blanks.

"My father? I'd put nothing past him," said Draco.

"Don't worry, mate. If it makes you feel any better, they'll probably want to speak to me, too," Theo said consolingly, but Draco thought there was little the Aurors would want from him. It was a well known fact that Theo's father had fallen out of favor of the Dark Lord within Death Eater circles. By the end of the war, Reginald Nott was nothing more than a wand and a warm body, a mindless servant being sent to die in the Dark Lord's name. Theo wondered if his father had possibly been Imperiused when he had fallen into disfavor, but there was no way to ever be certain. There was too much bad blood between father and son over the death of Theo's mother, Vivica, to care either way. His father made his choice early on, Theo decided.

"Maybe, but doubtful," Draco muttered as he piled his plate with food.

As the suspicious glares and whispers in the Hall continued, the four ate in silence, reflecting on the contents of the article. Pansy kept close watch over Draco, ensuring that he would eat while Blaise glanced nervously at his friend. Between the article and his father's timely owl that morning, Draco was in a foul mood.

"P-Pardon me?" a first-year Slytherin asked nervously. "Are... are you Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes," Draco barked. His response came a little too harshly, causing the first-year to cower under the older Slytherin's glare.

"H-Here," the small child said with a shaky voice while holding out a piece of folded parchment with an unsteady hand. Draco snatched it quickly, tossing the folded note on the table in front of him. Fearing anything further from Draco, the boy ran away.

"Ow!" Draco cried suddenly. "What the hell was that for?" he asked as he rubbed the back of his head. It throbbed painfully where Pansy's hand had met only seconds earlier.

"Would it kill you to be a little nicer to people? That poor kid was scared to death," Pansy admonished.

"What does it say?" Blaise interrupted, trying to dispel the argument about to ensue. Draco's foul mood combined with Pansy's unrelenting mothering was a volatile combination on the best of days.

Break the seal on the parchment, Draco read over the brief message and shifted his gaze toward the staff table. "McGonagall wants to see me in her office after breakfast," he stated quickly before reducing the note to a small pile of ash with his wand.

"What for?" Theo asked through a mouthful of food.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Draco shook his head. "Surely, that was a rhetorical question?" Draco asked dismissively. Theo shrugged. "Well, my appetite's done for. I might as well see what the old bird wants," he said, pushing himself from the table.

"But you didn't eat anything!" Pansy cried.

"Not now, Pans," Blaise said under his breath.

Draco simply ignored the two as he strode out of the Great Hall, followed by a pair of curious eyes seated at the Gryffindor table.

# # #

"Plumpton Pass," Draco muttered the password with an amused snort when he reached the Gargoyles leading to the Headmistress' office. The woman's affinity for Quidditch was astounding, and it was of little surprise that she had chosen a well known Quidditch tactic for a password. At least it was better than the array of sugary treats that her predecessor often used. Guilt stabbed at his conscience when he thought of the former Headmaster briefly. Draco never meant for the old man to die.

Finishing his climb to the top of the staircase, Draco knocked once on the office door. Upon hearing the Headmistress' beckon to enter, he pushed the door open as it groaned heavily on its hinges. Inside revealed Professor McGonagall behind a large mahogany desk in the center of the room.

"Yes, Draco, please come in," she said, motioning to him as she look up briefly from the document she held in her hands. Placing the rolled piece of parchment on her desk, her thin lips pressed into a rarely seen smile as she looked fondly at Draco. "I see you got my message. Please have a seat," she instructed as he commandeered the proffered chair.

Tension eased in his shoulders in the presence of the old woman. He had the ability to relax in McGonagall's presence since he had developed a strange but welcomed relationship with the woman over the summer. She began visiting him at Pembridge House in the weeks prior to his return to Hogwarts when she had personally delivered his Hogwarts letter. Concern grew when she found him a wreck, having not slept for days. Of course, he had been plagued by nightmares, and sleep did not come easy as a result. And when he had stopped eating due to fatigue, McGonagall suggested he seek help. To be expected, his pride got in the way. Malfoys were supposed to be strong, fit and without fault, absent of any weakness; but when he fell ill, McGonagall gave him an ultimatum, threatening to take him to St. Mungo's and have him committed if he didn't start taking a vested interest in his own wellbeing. That wasn't all, of course. The feisty old woman waylaid him with the proper amount of guilt for him to cave. At the behest of their portraits, McGonagall had made a promise to both Dumbledore and Snape to watch over the younger Malfoy. How could Draco refuse?

Chuckling inwardly, Draco's eyes met those of the old woman as her eyes sized up his appearance. If anyone were to know that he and the old Gryffindor conversed with one another regularly, Draco was certain Hogwarts would implode from collective shock alone. Hell, anyone who new either of them intimately would be mystified into stunned reticence if they discovered that he and McGonagall were well acquainted and on a first name basis.

"Minerva," Draco returned pleasantly.

"You're read the _Prophet_ this morning, I assume?"

"Yes," he responded curtly. "Shall I be expecting visitors?"

"Unfortunately," she said almost bitterly, but Draco knew the tone was reserved for the Ministry which the woman had begun to loath as of late. "However, you and I have business to discuss after your meeting with whomever they are sending."

"Do you know who I'll be speaking with today?" he asked, fidgeting nervously in his chair.

"I only received an owl this morning. They weren't forthcoming with any details. I can only hope they conduct their business in a timely manner and leave the premises immediately," she explained as Draco nodded slowly, digesting her words. "They'll be arriving by Floo shortly." She paused for a moment and looked worriedly at Draco who was now inspecting his hands that sat listless in his lap. Her expression softened as she continued to speak. "I know you are of age, but you are still a student. If you'll allow it, I would like to remain as a representative on your behalf."

"That would be appreciated," Draco said, looking up. The Headmistress nodded in agreement and a wave relief washed over Draco. Today, of all days, he did not want to face the Aurors alone. The Slytherin had nothing to hide, of course, but the article and his father's latest letter had not put him in the best of moods. It was certain he would lose his temper easily by way of his waining patience and wavering fortitude.

Before either could speak again, green flames rose to life as a familiar figure stepped forth from the Floo. Brushing himself off, the raven-haired young man surveyed the room quickly before his face met that of his old Professor. The fondness he felt for the old woman betrayed his all too professional demeanor as he smiled at McGonagall.

"Harry," the woman said jovially as she stood to greet him. Harry immediately hugged the Headmistress and lingered for a minute before he noticed Draco standing only a few feet away. Draco watched the exchange with guarded disinterest. "Malfoy," he said curtly before extending his hand.

"Potter," Draco returned with the same tone as he stepped forward. Their hands met firm in greeting. There was no malice in the exchange. "So, they sent you?" Draco inquired with one brow raised.

"Not without some finagling on my part," Harry stated before taking his seat next to Draco. "Robards was more inclined to send someone else. Apparently, he felt I was too biased," he said, seeming a bit put off by the notion. Harry caught the frown on Draco's face as the Slytherin began to tense and thought quickly to clarify. "Since I testified at both yours and Narcissa's trials," he quickly added.

"Ah, yes," said Draco.

"It's best we get down to business," Harry stated without pause. "You'll be staying, of course. Professor?"

"Of course," she stated.

"And you agree to this?" Harry asked, looking at Draco. The Slytherin nodded wordlessly before shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Very well then," Harry said, pulling out a folded piece of parchment from his robes.

"How long will this take?"

"Do you have somewhere to be, Malfoy?" Harry responded, looking at Draco. The half-grin that tugged at Harry's lips seemed to indicate no form of hostility in the question. "Don't worry. I don't want to here any more than you do. It's merely a formality at this point. I'll make it as quick and painless as possible."

"Alright. Ask away."

"First, have you been in contact with Lucius Malfoy?" Harry posed the first question, looking at the list held in his hands.

"Define contact, Potter."

"Letters. Floo calls. Unsanctioned visits," Harry rambled off. He noticed as Draco's eyes shifted nervously to the Headmistress and back to Harry. "Malfoy, if you've received anything, you need to tell me."

"It's nothing of importance, but yes, I receive owls almost daily from Lucius. Not that I've responded, mind you."

Surprised by Draco's answer—especially having referred to his father by name—Harry continued. "And what are the contents of his letters?"

Draco shifted nervously. "I believe the contents are of a personal nature."

"Not if you have something to hide," Harry immediately shot back, eying Draco suspiciously.

"If I may interject," McGonagall began. "Do you feel there is anything in contents that would be relevant to the Aurors' investigations?" she asked, directing her question at Draco.

"No," Draco stated simply.

"I need you to confirm the contents of those letters," Harry pressed.

"Unless you can make them stop, I don't see how his letters are of any consequence," Draco snapped.

Sensing the growing tension between them, Harry disregarded the list of questions by tossing them aside. "Look, Malfoy. If he's threatening you, it's in your best interest to inform us of this. I'm sure Robards would be happy to find you at fault at this point. _F__or_ _anything_," Harry stressed. "The man is on a proverbial witch hunt, and if Lucius is making threats or has indicated he is in contact with former associates, then I would rather be offering you protection instead of a one-way trip to Azkaban because you impeded our investigation."

"Draco, perhaps you should tell Harry the contents of the letters," McGonagall urged.

"It's embarrassing," Draco mumbled, looking away. The blond sighed heavily before running his hand through his hair. He mumbled incoherently before Harry urged him to repeat the reluctant offering.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"My father is pressing the issue of marriage," Draco finally admitted aloud.

"So, who's the unlucky girl?" asked Harry humorously.

"None so far which is the apparent problem," was the Slytherin's rancorous answer. Draco sneered as he looked away from his former classmate.

"Do you have a recent letter on hand?" Harry inquired. Draco nodded and pulled that morning's missive from his robes, handing it to Harry. The Auror scanned the letter briefly and laughed before handing it back to Draco. "Merlin! I'm glad I'm not you, Malfoy," he said, trying not to laugh at Draco's expense. Fortunately, if the Ministry were to inspect any of Lucius Malfoy's letters, they would find their contents to be quite innocuous. They would find the words of an insistent father and nothing more. Draco suspected the letters were being monitored by the Ministry periodically so there was no mention of the curse much to Draco's relief. Nevertheless, the subject was still taboo, and Draco had been reluctant in sharing that little fact with Saint Potter regardless if it was his job description to pry.

"Next, question," Harry continued, pulling the discarded parchment into his hands. "Have you noticed any suspicious activity at Malfoy Manor?"

"I wouldn't know," Draco responded tonelessly.

"What's that?"

"I wouldn't know because I don't live there anymore," Draco said bitterly, annoyed with Harry's questions.

"Where are you residing now?" Harry asked while jotting notes with his quill.

"None of your business," Draco answered tersely. "Unless I'm a suspect, I don't see how my private life is any of the Ministry's business."

"Malfoy—"

"Mr. Potter," the Headmistress interrupted formally. "Perhaps we can list his current residence as Hogwarts. I can assure you that he is afforded some decorum of privacy in this matter unless you are here to bring charges. The location is unfamiliar to any Death Eaters, former or otherwise," the woman hedged as her eyes shot to Draco. He nodded once in agreement. "And I believe that he intends to keep it that way. I have visited the residence several times this summer and can vouch on Mr. Malfoy's behalf that there is nothing untoward about the premises or its location."

The candid tone the Headmistress took was not lost on Harry. Even the little fact that she had referred to Draco on more intimate terms had not escaped his notice either. The former Gryffindor did not particularly like or trust his former classmate, but it appeared the old Order member had taken a liking to the blond and had been quick to defend him. Harry would have to inquired about their newfound relationship later.

"Is the premises under a Fidelius Charm?" Harry made the overt gesture of placing his quill down while waiting for Draco to answer. It was apparent that he had no intention of recording the answer.

"No, but that's certainly an excellent idea, Potter," he snorted.

"I'm sure," Harry responded before chuckling quietly.

Draco had heard rumors during the war that the Order's headquarters was under a Fidelius Charm and was certain that Harry was all too familiar with its use considering one disastrous outcome associated with it. It was no secret that his parents had misplaced trust in their Secret-Keeper. And Draco hadn't exactly lied to Harry but was not entirely forthcoming either. His home on Pembridge Square was heavily warded, but the sub-level of the residence had been another matter entirely. A heavily fortified basement, the whole lower level of the structure was under a Fidelius Charm, and when Draco inherited the property, he had unwittingly become the location's Secret-Keeper as well. He assumed the space had been created as a safe room to hide from whatever dangers that had threatened its occupants at one time. Perhaps it was time for Draco to extend the charm to the residence as a whole. He knew it would be difficult since the house was in a prominent Muggle neighborhood. Filing the consideration away for later, he turned his attention back to Harry.

"Any more questions, Potter?" Draco asked with a bored drawl.

"Of course," Harry responded as he continued on.

The remaining interrogation was routine enough. Harry asked if Draco had contact with any former Death Eaters along with the fairly standard list of suspected supporters. Draco answered each question honestly and helped confirm a list of suspects much to Harry's surprise. The only hiccup the Auror had was Draco's reluctance to revisit the contents of Lucius' letters and further questions about his home when Harry persisted again. Satisfied, Harry made some necessary notes at the end of his parchment and thanked Draco for his corporation.

"That will be all for now. I wish I could say this is the last you'll here from us, but until they're caught, I'm sure Robards will want to conduct further questioning," Harry concluded. The young man stood and extended his hand to Draco once more. The blond stood quickly to meet him and shook hands before the Auror turned to exchange pleasantries with the Headmistress before leaving.

"How are you fairing?" Draco barely made out the words of the Headmistress and strained to hear the exchange. "My apologies about Ginerva."

"You did what you had to do," Harry responded, barely about a whisper. Draco noticed the sad look of disappointment on Harry's face as the Auror rubbed the back of his neck. He was clearly uncomfortable with the topic for whatever reason. "I've left the Burrow," he added to which McGonagall gave an understanding but brief nod. "And do apologize to Hermione for me, would you?" Harry continued as he removed a small package from his robes. "I fear that Robards has me tied up tomorrow. I know she'll be disappointed."

"I'm sure she'll understand, Harry," the woman responded with comfort in her voice.

Harry shook his head as if he doubted the Headmistress. "I hope so," he said with a heavy sigh. "Please make sure she receives this," he said, placing the small parcel in the old woman's hands.

"Of course. I'll send it with Draco when he returns to his dormitory." Harry's eyes shifted to the blond Slytherin momentarily. "Don't worry, he'll pass it along," she assured him.

"Thanks, Professor."

"Minerva," the woman corrected.

Harry blushed. "Yes... um, Minerva. Thank you again. Malfoy," Harry said quickly passing a final farewell to both before returning to the Ministry through green flames.

The Headmistress sighed for a moment. The year had barely begun, but it looked as if it already weighed heavily upon her. Draco watched as the woman lowered herself into the oversized chair behind her desk before shifting her eyes to meet Draco's. She aimlessly discarded her wire-framed spectacles to one side before pinching the bridge of her nose.

"My apologies, Draco. That was entirely unnecessary but necessary just the same, I fear. I don't believe that is the last we will see of Mr. Potter, I assure you," the woman said as she affixed her glasses once more. She peered over the half-moon frames as her posture stiffened, pulling herself up with sudden business-like authority. "Now, onto other matters," she continued, causing Draco to look utterly perplexed.

"Yes," said Draco immediately after clearing this throat to answer.

"As you may have noticed—or perhaps not—Miss Weasley is no longer at Hogwarts," McGonagall began. Draco stiffened at the mention of the Weasley girl, curious about the sudden change in topic, and began to wonder about the cryptic exchange earlier. "There was an incident two days ago involving Miss Weasley and Miss Granger." Draco frowned, trying to recall if Hermione had acted out of sorts their rounds. He knew that she had missed Arithmancy class that day and didn't recall seeing her at dinner. "Miss Weasley was involved in an attempt to deceive Miss Granger. Polyjuice potion was used, unfortunately. However, due to Miss Granger's quick thinking, she was able to discern that she was in the presence was an impostor."

"Who was it? I mean, who was the Weasley girl Polyjuiced as?"

"Ronald Weasley," the professor stated sharply. There was something in her tone that led Draco to believe that the old woman not only disapproved of the youngest Weasley but her brother as well.

"Alright, but what does this have to do with me? Are you thinking I gave Weasley the potion?"

"Goodness, Draco! Of course not," the woman snapped before sighing. "Miss Weasley had help. It appears that Mr. Longbottom helped himself to Professor Slughorn's stores during rounds last week."

As McGonagall rambled on, she explained that Neville has been implicated when Ginny Weasley was brought to the Headmistress' office. Draco was stunned to say the least. Or maybe not so stunned as the case may be. Draco snorted. Of course Longbottom wouldn't have cared or questioned why She-Weasel needed the Polyjuice. You had to blind not to see that the bumbling idiot was besotted with the redhead and would have done anything for her if asked. Did Potter know? He mentioned moving out of the Weasley hovel they called a home. Perhaps there was trouble in paradise after all. He would have to pick Hermione's brain that night during rounds. Perhaps she knew.

"Horace and I were able to confirm Miss Weasley's accusation after he performed a simple inventory. We also spoke to Mr. Longbottom, who admitted his participation immediately. It appears that Mr. Longbottom was unaware of the full extent of Miss Weasley's plans when he agreed to help her. Since this type of behavior would normally warrant expulsion, Mr. Longbottom has relinquished his badge instead. The shame alone will be enough punishment considering Mr. Longbottom is being forced to explain his actions to his grandmother. I have directed him to write Augusta on the matter and confess his involvement. Which leads me to why you are here," she continued slowly. "I am offering the badge to you, Draco. Your exemplary behavior as prefect in a short time has not gone unnoticed by the staff or myself. I do believe that on more than one occasion Miss Granger expressed her sincerest pleasure working with you during rounds."

"Is that wise, Professor?" he questioned, not entirely sure why Hermione had sung his praises given how he had treated her over the years.

"Are you declining?"

"Under normal circumstances, I'd be a fool to do so, but you can't honestly think of this as a good thing? Do you know the outrage there would be if Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, suddenly became Head Boy? How is that any better than Longbottom? I'm quite certain that there will be further retaliation against Granger for the loss of his badge and for Weasley's suspension. I would expect things to be much worse for her if I accept. I'd be working directly with her."

"Are you implying that Miss Granger is at fault?"

"Merlin, no!" he cried. He refrained from speaking for a moment as he ran his hand down his face in apparent frustration. "Minerva, if may I skip the pleasantries, I'd rather be blunt about this."

"What's on your mind, Draco?" she inquired before summoning one of Hogwart's house-elves, ordering tea for the two. Draco swore he heard a low, rumbling chuckle from Dumbledore's portrait despite his apparent slumber.

"No intended disrespect to you, Minerva, but I bloody despise the lot right now. I know that comes of no surprise, but I can assure you that my reasons are quite legitimate this time. Regardless, that has little effect on my decision either way, despite the urge to tell the bloody prats to sod off."

"I assume you are speaking about Gryffindor House and most of the eighth-years. May I ask what's changed?" she queried as she attempted to hide her smile. Briefly interrupted, she thanked the house-elf who returned promptly with a serving tray. "Would you like a cup?" she offered as she poured tea into her own. Draco nodded as her rose to his feet. "Sit, Draco. We're friends here. No need to wait on yourself. Two lumps of sugar, if I remember. Correct?"

"You remembered," he stated, taking his seat again.

"Of course. Now, as you were saying," McGonagall prompted as she levitated the cup toward Draco. The Slytherin took it gratefully in hand, gingerly sipping scalding tea before setting it to one side.

"It's how they treat Granger," he began. "It's inexcusable." McGonagall hummed with understanding as she watched the normally poised, impassive Slytherin become quite agitated as he spoke. "And I'm well aware that it's due to her testimony at my trial," Draco continued to rant as he pointed at the Headmistress to make his point. Draco shifted in his seat, unable to contain his nervous energy.

"So you've become friends?" the old woman hedged carefully.

"No. Oh, no. We're not friends," he said defensively. "I just feel—"

"Gratitude toward Miss Granger?"

"Very much so. And respect. I know that's probably hard for you to believe but—"

McGonagall held up her hand as she spoke. "It's not hard to believe, Draco, but I believe that you should telling this to Miss Granger."

He wasn't ready to admit he had already had this particular discussion with Hermione. Draco stood suddenly and began to pace the worn tiles in front of the Headmistress' desk. He had thanked Granger their first night on patrol, but there was a part of him that felt that the world would always question his motives, no matter how genuine. Including Hermione Granger. And despite the ease with which their quiet association developed, in the back of Draco's mind, he wondered if the Headmistress would doubt in him as well. It was hard to dismiss the last seven years, even if he tried.

Diverting his attention back to the Headmistress' offer, his eyes lingered momentarily on the offered badge. "This is more than I could possibly handle right now. I'm sorry, Minerva. I was expecting to complete this year with no trouble. No Dark Lord. No fights or disagreements with Potter or Weasley. I just want to avoid any complications. It's bad enough that you've shackled me with this," he said, pointing to his prefect badge. "I know. I know. I took it willingly, no thanks to an enormous amount nagging from you," he said with a smile, taking the sting out of his words.

"Admirable as that is, life isn't always that simple. Dare I ask what troubles you? I noticed your reluctance earlier when Harry asked about Lucius. I am assuming your hesitation involves—"

"My bloody father? Yes," he spat forcefully.

McGonagall's tongue clucked with disapproval at the mention of the elder Malfoy. Draco seemed more amiable since she had had first visited him that summer, and from there, their relationship grew. Much to her surprise, Draco had begun to open up to her, divulging his troubles freely, but she also knew to tread lightly with the young man. He did not trade confidences easily and was still wary of those in authority. McGonagall pondered what would have happened if the Slytherin had confided in her old friend early on before things got out of hand two years ago.

"But Lucius is under house arrest, and without a wand, what manner of trouble can he be?" she probed.

"Enough to warrant a trip to Azkaban, I assure you," he ground out.

"What has he done?" she asked with serious concern.

"How familiar are you with _Matrimonium Maledictionem_?_"_

"No!" the Headmistress gasped, setting her cup aside. "When?"

"Summer before fifth-year. I refused to enter into a marriage contract with Astoria Greengrass. Consider it one of Lucius' more noble punishments," he sneered. He knew the old woman, who he now considered his friend and mentor, would understand old pure-blood customs. McGonagall hissed over Draco's implications that Lucius was often more harsh in his punishments.

"You must address the Ministry on this matter. You've been of age for what... a year now?"

"I turned seventeen a year ago in June," Draco confirmed.

"I assume you are feeling the effects since you've come of age?"

"Some. A few spells have lacked the necessary force behind them, you might say, but it's been negligible. Wandless and non-verbals are far more difficult to cast. They take considerable effort now. That's if I succeed at all."

"Any other side effects?"

Draco shook his head vehemently. "Do you understand now? I can't accept this even if I wanted. How can anyone accept a Head Boy who won't even be able to pass his N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year?" Draco groaned, taking his seat once more. "I also refuse to take the matter to the Ministry. Consider my faith in them lacking, if you will," he continued, waving his hand dismissively. "There are few that would be—How shall I say it? Open-minded enough to realize this is solely my father's doing? I'd rather avoid erroneous implications given the nature of the spell," he said carefully. "And it's Lucius. Consider it my trump card against him when needed."

"I see your reasoning. I take it that you have made attempts to resolve your particular problem?"

"If you call being paraded around like a stud in front of every perceivable pure-blood by my father, then yes, I have made an effort. Merlin, I even kissed Millicent Bulstrode's hand," Draco said with a repulsive shudder. "The girl owled me non-stop for a week!" he cried, causing the Headmistress to draw her hand to her lips to hide her smile. "I'm glad you find this funny," he said sarcastically, noticing that the old woman was barely able to contain her own laughter.

"You poor dear. I remember the Bulstrode girl well. Most unfortunate. Most unfortunate," she repeated. While sympathetic, there was clearly mirth laced in her voice.

"Well, despite my best efforts, it still doesn't stop Lucius from sending owls. Sometimes several."

"I can put a stop to the letters by contacting the Ministry, if you would like. Clearly, your earlier request was not made in jest. Although, I do believe I shall speak to Kingsley instead of Harry to make the necessary arrangements."

Draco perked up, looking at the old woman with appreciative wonder. "That would be wonderful. Thank... thank you, Minvera," he gushed with gratitude.

"Don't thank me just yet. The Minister will want to know the reason for such a request, and without breaking your confidence, it will require a few days to come up with a plausible excuse to avoid suspicion."

"Understood."

"That being said, it is my understanding that the _Matrimonium Maledictionem _itself cannot be reversed, but that isn't to say there haven't been rumors indicating otherwise." McGonagall's eyes glimmered with a hint of hope for the young man whose face piqued with sudden interest. "Again. These are rumors, Draco. It pains me to give you any false hope on the matter, but if you are willing to investigate all possibilities, I may be of some assistance."

"At what price?" he asked far too quickly.

With an unusual snort of amusement, McGonagall began shaking her head. "Always suspecting those of guile and trickery. It is in your nature, I suppose, but you are fair to assume that such favors do not present themselves so freely. There is a price for my help, assuredly, but considered the trade fair," she said, sizing up the young man's reaction to her words.

"I have no choice in the matter, Minerva. I'm willing to explore all options at this point."

"There is always a choice, Draco. You know this, but you will find the price to be paid for my help is quite small. Due to my lack of faith in any positive results, I'm sure it is you who will be doing me the bigger favor instead."

"And that is?" he asked slowly.

"Allow me to give you this," she said, holding out the Head Boy badge, "and I will procure whatever resources available to help with your research."

Draco silently cursed himself for trusting the old woman. Eying her suspiciously, he spoke, "You haven't completely convinced me that this is a wise investment on my part."

"Come now, Draco," she chided. "You are the second brightest student at Hogwarts who is about to be working alongside the brightest witch in centuries. Due to the nature of your current relationship—" Halting herself, McGonagall held up her hand to halt any protest from the Slytherin. "I know. I know. You claim otherwise, but dare I say it be an opportunity for you to confide in Miss Granger and seek her assistance. Miss Granger would be a wise asset in this case." McGonagall paused as Draco ran his hand down his face in frustration. "Unless you have plans to leave Hogwarts any time soon, I see no reason not to continue as normal save for whatever research you allot in your free time."

Admitting defeat to himself, he sighed heavily before nodding. "At this point, what do I have to lose?"

"No more than what's already at risk," the Headmistress said, stating the obvious.

Draco gave a sad, humorless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "I suppose years of dealing with Severus has turned you into a bit of a Slytherin. Only a Slytherin would consider Granger an asset in this circumstance. Dare I say, I expected to you to appeal on more noble grounds."

"Such as?"

"Ensure that Granger is protected from her so-called friends?"

"Perhaps," the old woman hedged. "But it would fruitless to argue such a case when the intent is already there on your part. Wouldn't you say?"

"Touché," Draco conceded gracefully as a proud smirk graced the old woman's features.

Handing Draco the Head Boy badge, she spoke, "Thank you, Draco. I assure you that your trust is not misplaced."

Draco nodded once and smiled before stealing one last glance at Dumbledore's portrait above her. The old Headmaster had slept throughout the whole exchange, and Draco wondered if it was just a ruse. Nodding once to McGonagall, he politely began taking his leave, but as he reached the door, the old woman cleared her throat, getting his attention one last time. In her outstretched hand, the old woman held the small wrapped package that Harry had left with her earlier. Draco's brows knitted in confusion.

"From Harry. Ensure that Miss Granger receives this," she instructed, thrusting the small package toward him.

"I... alright," Draco said with some reluctance as he accepted it.

"It would be most unpleasant for Miss Granger to be alone tomorrow," the woman said in a covert manner.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. I do believe it's Miss Granger's birthday," McGonagall said, giving Draco a calculating look. "Good day, Draco," she added before gently ushering the stunned Slytherin out of her office.


	5. 4:September 19 & 20, 1998

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**September 19 & 20, 1998**

"Merlin, Granger! You... you're pissed!"

Hermione brought a single conspiratorial finger to her lips, shushing Pansy as if the Slytherin had divulged some sort of secret that she wasn't supposed to share. The brunette giggled as the two leaned against one another for support. It was painfully obvious to the three men that neither witch had been able to hold their liquor that evening.

"And if you two don't shut up, Filch is going to catch us," Draco hissed in warning over his shoulder. The Slytherin had lead the way back into the castle, looking for signs of the caretaker and other students as he cleared the path before them. Blaise and Theo stayed close to the girls, ready to break their fall should either lose their footing along the way.

"How is she even standing?" Blaise asked no one in particular. His hands shot out, ready to steady the witch when she began to sway.

"Ten Galleons says Granger tosses her cookies before we make it back to her room," Theo waged over their heads.

"Double says she passes out before then," Blaise countered, looking back at his friend.

"You're on."

"Are... are.. you... betting on us?" Hermione slurred as she glared at Theo.

"No. Just you, love," Blaise said adoringly as he tugged one of her curls. Her scorn dissipated quickly when Pansy began giggling once more.

"Gits," Pansy slurred defiantly in Hermione's defense as she clung to the girl beside her.

Neither had stopped giggling since they left Hogsmeade nearly an hour ago. Draco made the decision to leave abruptly after Hermione had found her way into his lap, snogging him on a dare. Pansy threw down the gauntlet, Hermione accepted, and Draco had been caught in the crossfire. The brunette had practically thrown herself at the poor bloke after the rowdy game of Truth or Dare had gotten way out of hand. When Hermione pulled her lips from his, Draco looked utterly confused and horrified while the Gryffindor looked pleasantly pleased amongst many hoots and hollers of his friends.

"What are you looking at?" Pansy slurred as she drunkenly attempted to follow Hermione's far-off gaze. "Oh!" she gasped, realizing where her eyes had landed.

"Malfoy has a cute bum," Hermione blurted in her poor attempt at a whisper. She covered her mouth in shock, betrayed by the volume of her own voice. Pansy hummed in agreement as she nodded slowly. Even Pansy could appreciate Draco's posterior despite the brotherly affection she held for him.

Draco grumbled under his breath with hunched shoulders as he heard the witches' shrill giggles and the traitorous snickers of his two best friends. He wasn't near as drunk as he wanted, and the dull headache he developed earlier that evening had begun to throb. Dealing with Granger was turning into a bloody nightmare. He would never allow her to consume Firewhiskey let alone accompanier her on her birthday ever again. With any luck, Granger would forget her drunken escapade by morning. The last thing Draco needed was for things to be awkward between them now that he was Head Boy.

Successfully navigating the halls, the small group arrived at their portrait without incident save for a minor encounter with Peeves, who Draco was more than willing to dispatch the Bloody Baron on. Theo held onto Pansy as Blaise guided Hermione through the portrait opening after Draco indicated the coast as clear. Climbing the stairs to their rooms, Blaise cursed under his breath as Hermione began to slump against him.

"A little help here," Blaise pleaded, looking to Draco. "Where's her wand?"

Draco groaned as he approached his friend and the two looked warily at the witch while Theo helped Pansy through her door one room down.

"Look, we need her wand in order to get into her room. It's locked," Blaise said, pointing at Hermione's door. "I'm not going to molest Granger to find it."

"Don't look at me," Draco snapped.

"You're the one who snogged her, mate. Not me," Blaise whinged as he struggled to keep Hermione upright against him. The dead weight in his arms left her feeling far more heavy than he had anticipated.

"No, I clearly remember _her _snogging _me_," Draco snipped, perceptibly flustered by the situation.

"But you enjoyed it," Blaise shot back with a wolfish grin.

"Debatable," Draco groaned. "It was just a silly game, and she won't remember anything by morning."

"She's getting heavy here. We need to get her into bed," Blaise pointed out, conveying the urgency of the situation.

"Brilliant," Draco muttered acrimoniously. "Bring her down to mine."

Staggering into Draco's room, Blaise laid Hermione across the expansive bed that sat center on one wall. Stepping back, Blaise sunk his hands into his pockets as he watched Draco pace the room, clearly agitated. Seconds passed before Theo burst through the door, strutting into the blond's room with a less than pleasant smirk on his face.

"What are you going to do with her?" Theo asked, jabbing his thumb toward the brunette.

"How's Pans?" Draco asked, not bothering to respond to his question.

"Depressed now. I sobered her up with a potion."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione slurred. The three failed to react in time as she heaved the contents of her stomach all over herself and down the side of Draco's bed.

"Just brilliant," Draco muttered, using his wand to vanish the mess. The smell of Firewhiskey and bile filled the air as Blaise opened the window. "Go get Pansy," Draco bit sharply, ordering Theo from the room.

"It was _your_ splendid idea to take her out," Blaise reminded his friend as he found relief from the fresh air that began to circulate into the room. "_You_ get to take care of her."

Hermione heaved the contents of her stomach once more, but Draco managed to summon a waste bin in time.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered as he held the girl's hair back from her face. "This is foul."

"As if you've never been sick a day in your life," Pansy chided from the doorway as she was accompanied by Theo. "Why is she in your bed?" she prodded.

"We couldn't find her wand," Blaise said quickly. He ravenously gulped the free flowing air by the window as sounds of retching echoed throughout the room. Clearly, the Slytherin did not take well to others being sick around him. Theo leaned in the doorway and smirked at his friend.

"Shut the door before someone hears her," Pansy ordered. "And _you_," she began, wagging her finger at Draco, "will be taking care of her tonight."

"I will not," Draco huffed, still holding Hermione's hair up by in his hand.

"You already are," she pointed out while summoning a glass of water. "Here. Have her drink this."

Draco handed the glass to Hermione, who drank its contents greedily.

"What do we do now?" Draco queried while scanning the faces of his friends.

"Find her something to wear, and I'll slip her out of her clothes," Pansy stated. Draco sighed as he and Pansy switched places, allowing him to search the wardrobe for something suitable that Hermione could wear. Draco needed to find something he was willing to burn the next morning if needed. Tossing an old Quidditch jersey and a pair of his boxers her way, Draco and his friends filed through the adjoining bathroom and into Theo's room, allowing Pansy to tend to Hermione without interruption.

"So. How was it?" Blaise asked after the three were alone. Theo allowed himself to flop casually against the mattress of his four-poster bed before venting his displeasure with a loud disagreeable sigh.

"How was what?" Draco asked, confused by the question.

"Surely, you're not that thick," he shot back.

"Yes. How was it kissing the Mudblood, Drake?" Theo mocked from his spot on the bed.

"Wet," Draco answered immediately. "And don't call her that," he snapped, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

"Apparently you liked it enough to defend her just now," he shot back, rising to sit on the edge.

Draco's jaw tightened as he shot daggers at the Slytherin.

"We all know Nott here has a hard time letting go of the past," Blaise offered, clapping Draco on the shoulder. "Let it go, mate."

"Just because I agreed to help you with your little project to repay Granger doesn't mean I have to like it," Theo said dismissively.

"That's right. How could I forget? You hid like a bloody coward during the war," Draco snapped, clearly disappointed with his friend.

"Just because I didn't throw in with your lot or follow my father doesn't mean I've given up my beliefs," he returned angrily.

"This really isn't time," Blaise groaned while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're right, Blaise. How could I forget? Draco's turned into some sodding Muggle lover now. " Theo responded. "I suppose I should just shut up then."

"Perhaps you should," Draco mocked at him, balling his fists.

"No, I get it. You'd be in Azkaban with out the Mudblood's testimony, so pay whatever debt you think you owe her and move on," he scoffed. Draco lunged at Theo, allowing his fist to connect squarely with his jaw. Blaise jumped between the pair, pulling Draco off of his long-time friend.

"Break it up," Blaise ordered.

"You weren't forced to watch her being tortured by your psychotic aunt," Draco cried as Blaise pulled him away.

"And whose fault's that? You chose to stick around that freak," Theo challenged, clearly referring to the Dark Lord. "What did you expect from your family? To welcome her with open arms? Merlin, Draco! I never said I wanted to hurt her or even see her killed, I just don't see benefit of being friends with them. We don't associate with their kind," he yelled.

"We're not friends," Draco said defensively, but the words had a double-edged meaning as well which stung as soon as Theo heard them.

"Could have fooled me," Blaise coughed under his breath, referring to the brunette instead.

"Whatever," said Draco, waving off his friend.

"You need to get over your personal issues," Blaise said heatedly, turning on Theo. "It's Granger, yes, but she's bloody brilliant and far more talented with a wand than half of us in Slytherin. Can you honestly say that you were put off by her presence tonight? You seemed to enjoy yourself as much as the rest of us. And Pansy has taken a liking to her as well. What does it matter if her parents are Muggles? I thought we were beyond all this."

"I only agreed to support Drake here because somewhere in that deluded mind of his he feels some sort of silly obligation toward her... some debt to repay or whatever," Theo said flippantly. "But let me be clear. I owe nothing to her. Nothing. As far as I'm concerned, she's still a filthy Mudblood," he added with a deadly edge to his voice.

"You're sense of loyalty is astounding," Blaise muttered derisively as he rolled his eyes.

"I'm a Slytherin," Theo pointed out. "You would do well not to forget that," he leveled at the two.

"Yes, because being a Slytherin has worked brilliantly in our favor," Draco said dryly.

"Well enough for you to still play Quidditch this year and sit at the same damn table each morning," Theo pointed out. The man sighed and regretted falling into another argument with his friend. His lips parted to say more, but it was clear that Draco was still fuming and thought better of it. "Why the hell are we arguing?" he asked instead.

"Hmm, I wonder," Draco sneered from the far side of the room.

Theo wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, wincing at the pain that throbbed in his cheek. Draco had always had a potent right hook. Not that Theo felt he deserved to be on the receiving end of it. His only regret was the frequent arguments that developed between as the resulting tension drove them further apart. It was clear they had wandered down separate paths over the last two years and more so in recent months. It wasn't as if Theo had given up all that he had learned as easily as his friend. Despite his lack of involvement in the war, he still held fast to his views on Muggles. He wouldn't fight for a psychopath he hated or the Muggleborns and half-bloods that he despise. His neutrality was self-serving and nothing more. At one time, Draco Malfoy would have been spouting the same pure-blood rhetoric along side him, but since their return to Hogwarts, it was Theo who had little in common with the man he considered to be his oldest friend. He struggled with the idea that Draco was no longer the same person he had known in his youth. Theodore Nott was a dying breed that would soon have little place in the world.

"Well, she's changed and sleeping now," Pansy interrupted from the doorway. "I gave her a something to help settle her stomach, but I don't think there's anything I can do to remedy the raging hangover she'll going to have come morning."

"Thanks, Pans," Draco said, pushing himself from the wall. Blaise nodded once in farewell before excusing himself for the night while Draco followed Pansy, wanting to put the altercation behind him. Reentering his private sanctuary, he spied Granger under a mountain of blankets as the chill of the open window permeated the air.

"I'll be by early to fetch her," Pansy informed him. "And behave yourself," she smirked playfully, closing the door behind her.

Staring at the comatose girl in his bed for several minutes, Draco recalled the prior events of that evening. A day in Hogsmeade turned into dinner, and then copious amounts of drinking evolved into a wayward game of Truth or Dare, during which Granger spontaneously kissed him on a dare. Not that he had minded, but the impulsive act had unwittingly startled him. After all, she had been reluctant to offer anything more than truth for most of the evening, and no one suspected that she would consent to a dare however innocent the challenge may be. But she launched herself at him just the same, surprising the unsuspecting Slytherin as her lips melded with his. The kiss held just enough passion as she fisted her hands through his hair, leading him to secretly enjoy the moment even if he wouldn't admit it freely.

Inconsistent with the rumors that littered the gossip mill of Hogwarts, Draco had never kissed a girl save for the chaste peck he had given Pansy a time or two during their sixth-year. Yes, the blond had properly been snogged for the first time in his life by Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio and Gryffindor's crowned Princess. And with that, he hadn't the first clue as to what he should feel. Did she fancy him? Or was it a moment of wild abandon fueled by excessive alcohol? And why, of all things, had he enjoyed it? He was undeniably confused. Alcohol had certainly contributed to her actions, but there was little excuse for his, having remained sober most of the evening. Draco dismissed his participation in the act as curiosity and nothing more.

Pushing all his embarrassing thoughts aside, Draco sighed heavily as he slipped between the covers. He wisely remained in his clothes from that evening as he did so. Morning would be awkward enough for the two, and he was unwilling to lend any more discomfort to the situation by allowing her to find him in his usual bed attire the next day. Hermione already donned his old jersey and boxers which would raise enough questions if her memory failed her. Dreading what was to come, Draco silently cursed himself, putting as much distance as he could between the two before willing himself to sleep.

# # #

Draco shivered violently under the covers as a stark chill blanketed the room. Yet, he felt an unfamiliar warmth radiate not far from him. Sometime during the last few hours of sleep, she had managed to nudge her way toward him, seeking his warmth. Checking the time, he groaned. It was only half past four and morning was still several hours away. Crawling reluctantly from his carefully layered shelter against the cold, he closed the window that had been left open and used his wand to set alight the logs in a small fireplace at the far corner of the room. Welcoming heat to came forth, driving back the bone-chilling air. It was the middle of September and the nights had already seen a sudden drop in temperature.

"Who's there?" Hermione called out groggily.

"It's just me, Granger. Go back to sleep."

"Malfoy! What are you doing in my room?" she cried out, sitting up far too quickly. Her head pounded relentlessly as if struck by a thousand hammers. She winced painfully before allowing herself to fall helplessly against her pillow once more.

"Now, now, Granger. I believe you are in mine, or did you drink yourself into such a stupor to forget that?"

"Oh, Lord," she muttered as she rubbed her head. "What time is it?"

"Half past four," he responded as he warmed his hands over the blazing hearth. Hermione could make out his silhouette against warm glow of the fire. "Go back to sleep," he urged as he approached his side of the bed. Draco began to slip back between the covers causing Hermione to gasp in protest.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shrieked.

"I'm going back to sleep. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"But—"

"It's my bed, Granger. I'm not sleeping on the floor. There's enough room so long as you keep your pretty little hands to you self," he said with a smirk. Hermione gasped at his off-putting remark. "I know. You find me irresistible," he said smugly as he crawled in before pulling the blankets up to his chin.

Hermione gave a very undignified snort that gave way to a muffled groan. Her head throbbed with pain.

"All right there, Granger?"

"No. My head hurts."

"Well that tends to happen when you consume several bottles of alcohol," said Draco while snatching a quick glance in her direction. Her profile was outlined by the ambient light of the fire, and he saw her rubbing her head in frustration.

"Surely, I didn't consume that much?" she asked disbelievingly.

"No, no... Pansy certainly helped," he assured her.

The room remained quiet except for the soft snaps and pops as flames lapped lazily at the burning wood. Draco felt Hermione shift uncomfortably beside him. He surmised that her discomfort wasn't solely attributed to the hangover she felt upon waking and sighed, wondering if she recalled events from earlier that evening.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked, breaking the restless silence. She noticed the cool silk of Draco's sheets as they brushed against her legs, realizing for the first time that her clothes had been exchanged for others than her own.

"You got sick," he stated simply. "Don't worry. I didn't dress you. That was all Pansy's doing. Although you might want to burn them in the morning," he said, referring to her clothes. "There's only so much a _Scourgify_ can do."

Draco heard a relieved sigh as the bed shifted next to him once more.

"Thank you," she said, rolling to her side.

Draco gave a noncommittal grunt and rolled away, ensuring that his back faced her. Again, he tried to put as much distance as he could between them.

"Malfoy?"

"What, Granger?" was his irritated response.

"Could you rub my head? It hurts."

"Good," Draco said over his shoulder, not bothering to look at her.

"Please?" she begged with a meek whisper.

"Oh, bloody hell," Draco muttered before rolling toward her. "Get over here," he ordered as Hermione scooted closer to him. Draco had never cuddled a witch let alone offered one comfort or taken one into his bed. Nevertheless, he wrapped her in his arms hesitantly as he began stroking her head, just as she requested. It appeared that Hermione Granger had been apart of many firsts for him that night. Draco tried not to think of the kiss she gave him or the fact that the same witch was now draped over him as he ran his fingers through her hair. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and was thankful for the cover of darkness.

Several minutes later, Draco halted his ministrations when he heard the soft snores of the girl pressed against him. Drawing comfort from her warmth, he yawned drowsily before his body gave way to sleep.

# # #

"Granger," someone hissed.

Hermione felt something painfully jab at her shoulder. It was shortly after day break and light started to flood the room. She groaned for a moment, feeling the assault of pain that thundered through her head as she opened her eyes.

"Granger. Wake up," a feminine voice muttered.

Adjusting to her surroundings, Hermione carefully pulled herself from the man sleeping next to her, letting the blond's arm slip easily to one side. Facing her instigator, she caught the face of Pansy holding a wand at her side.

"Did you just poke me with your wand?" Hermione whispered, not wanting to wake the blond next to her.

"Waking you is like trying to wake the dead," Pansy muttered with a smirk evident on her face. "Let's get you back to your room."

"Shouldn't we tell him I'm leaving?" Hermione asked, looking at Draco. She paled as she noticed the enormous wet spot on the front of his shirt where she had been laying moments earlier. _Great! I __drooled__ on him in my sleep, _she groaned in thought.

"Let him be. He needs a lie in after the night you put him through," Pansy teased playfully. There was a knowing look in her eyes that Hermione had yet to comprehend. There was something clearly amiss that left her ill at ease.

Untangling herself from the bed linens, Hermione dutifully followed Pansy out of the room and down the narrow hallway toward her own. Fortunately, Hermione's was sandwiched between Draco's and Pansy's which made the trek all the more easy. Searching the bundle of clothes that she gathered on her way out, Hermione recovered her wand from the pocket of her jeans and waved it wordlessly over the door, allowing it to open. Pansy followed her inside and perched on the edge of Hermione's bed as she studied the Gryffindor curiously.

"Hangover?" Pansy questioned with a sly grin. "Here," she said, handing the girl a potion.

Hermione tipped the contents of the vial down her throat and immediately found relief as her pounding headache and fits of overwhelming nausea began to ebb. "Thank you," she muttered gratefully.

"No problem, Granger." Pansy snickered for a moment, observing the girl. "Interesting choice of sleeping attire," she said facetiously, pointing to the oversized Slytherin green jersey that Hermione was wearing.

The brunette groaned in response and allowed herself to flop carelessly onto her bed. The welcomed comfort she expected was nonexistent and suddenly missed the luxurious relief that Draco's bed had provided moments earlier.

"Does he always get the best of everything?" Hermione whinged out loud. She groaned as she ran her hands over her face in frustration.

"Meaning?"

"Malfoy's bed. How the bloody hell did he get _that_ bed when I'm stuck with _this_?" she cried while waving her hand aimlessly through the air. The piece of furniture was no different than in previous years, and found herself jealous that the Slytherin had been afforded better accommodations. Her room even appeared smaller much to her chagrin.

Pansy tutted with disapproval, but smiled just the same. "Are you not a witch in possession of a wand?"

"Of course, I am."

"Then you are clearly not as bright as I thought," Pansy said with a wink. "Here, let me show you."

Pulling Hermione to her feet by both hands, the two walked through the adjoining bathroom that they shared. Entering on the other side, Hermione gasped as she took in the lavish furnishings of the Slytherin's room. The size mirrored Draco's while an equally massive bed consumed the greater part of one wall.

"Enlargement and cushioning charms work wonders, Granger," the Slytherin said as she satisfyingly crossed her arms in front of her. "Try it," she urged, motioning to the focus of the girl's attention.

Hermione approached it cautiously and tested the firmness of the mattress before surrendering herself to its plush comfort. Snuggling against the duvet, Hermione let out of a languid sigh. "This is heaven," she said as Pansy flopped onto the space next to her.

"I agree," she responded. "So—"

"Last night?" Hermione continued. "Did I embarrass myself horribly?"

"No more than usual, Granger. Although, I was quite impressed that you took me up on that dare."

"What dare?" Hermione squeaked, sitting up suddenly.

Pansy chuckled as she twirled her wand lazily through her fingers. "I may have dared you to snog Draco," she said casually.

"I didn't!" Hermione shrieked.

"Oh, trust me. You did," Pansy said with an enthused smile.

"Oh, Merlin! How bad was it? Did he hex me?" Hermione buried her face in her hands as she flushed with embarrassment.

"I think he enjoyed it, actually. As did you."

"No! Never!" Hermione protested, gaping at the girl.

"Denial," Pansy singsonged as she inspected her perfectly manicured nails. Muffled screams of protest could be heard as Hermione hid her face deep in one of Pansy's pillows. "Look, Granger," she continued while pulling the object away. "It's my fault, really. I was dying to see Draco's reaction, but I never thought you'd actually do it. Apparently, neither did he," Pansy said, giggling to herself.

"I'm mortified," Hermione cried while attempting to reclaim the pillow from Pansy.

"Yes, well," the girl said with a noncommittal shrug while tossing it aside. "Consider it a gift to Draco."

"A _what_?!"

"Despite whatever rumors you've heard—How do I put this delicately? Draco's never been with a girl," Pansy said almost seriously. A smile still tugged at her lips as she examined the sudden look of horror on Hermione's face.

"You mean he's—"

"He's what, Granger?"

Hermione lowered her voice to just a whisper. "You know... gay?"

Pansy burst into side splitting laughter as Hermione looked on, thoroughly perplexed by the Slytherin's reaction. After a minute, the her laughter wained to intermittent bouts of snickers as she daintily dabbed the corners of her eyes to wipe away her tears. "That's rich, Granger. Who knew you had a sense of humor?" she said after taking a deep breath to compose herself.

"Wait. He's not gay? But I thought—"

"Hardly. Draco is in no way, shape, or form batting for the other team. And thank Merlin! That would be a fine waste of a specimen if he did," Pansy mused.

"Oh, god! He's my partner in potions! And Head Boy! How am I going to work with him? I can't imagine what he thinks of me. Oh, god! He must think I'm utterly repulsive and a total slag. A Mudblood kissing a—"

"Don't call yourself that," Pansy hissed angrily, catching Hermione by the wrist to get her attention. "Don't you _dare_ think that."

"But—"

"Hermione," Pansy said solemnly, now having the Gryffindor's full attention. "We've been a lot of things to you in the past. Draco's been an enormous prat, and I've been a right bitch to you for years. We've called you names... Mudblood being one of them. No more. You won't hear it from me or Draco ever again."

"I'm sensing a but here," Hermione said as she worried her lip.

"Nothing gets by you does it?" she asked with a sad smile. " Blaise tends to go with the flow, you know, but he's wise enough to keep up appearances when needed. Slytherins have a natural instinct for self-preservation. Unlike you Gryffindors, I might add. We're quick to chew and spit anyone out who doesn't conform to Slytherin beliefs," she said while sealing the last words in quotes with her fingers to stress the full effect of her words. "Why do you think Draco sits at the far end of our table at each meal? He's been tossed aside like anyone else who's shown their disloyalty.

"Draco and I are blood traitors," Pansy admitted. The words fell out of her mouth with surprising ease as she said them aloud for the first time. "And you're right, Granger. The exception is Theo. He won't accept you, but I imagine he'll be civil to you for the rest of us. Or at least for Draco. But I can't promise you that he won't ever call you a Mudblood behind your back or even to your face," she added regrettably before pausing. "They're growing apart, you know. Theo and Drake, that is. They grew up together. Their fathers were Death Eaters. They were taught the same ideals and shared the same beliefs. But Draco's changed... put that life behind him... while Theo's still living in the past. He's consumed by hate. Hate for his father, hate for the Dark Lord, and hate for Muggles. It doesn't make much sense, I know. How can one loath the Dark Lord and still hate Muggles? I can't explain it. It's just... Theo. I just can't guarantee that he'll ever accept you, and for that, I'm sorry."

The girls laid next to one another, staring aimlessly at the canopy overhead. Each was lost in thought after they mulled over Pansy's sobering words. Hermione hadn't given much thought to House politics since they hardly ever existed in her own. Was it the same for Ravenclaw? Or even Hufflepuff? She couldn't fathom having to lie about one's loyalties, day in and day out, just to survive. Were there others, like Draco and Pansy, too afraid to come forward? Or were they the exception to the rule? And how did Theo's presence fit with their dynamic? He still held onto antiquated beliefs that the others did not share.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Hermione rolled to her side and propped her head up with her hand. She smiled mischievously at Pansy while allowing her thoughts to drift elsewhere.

"Be honest. How did he really looked after I snogged him?" Hermione asked as her cheeks burned with color once more.

"You want the truth?" Pansy asked as Hermione nodded. "Like he just had the snog of his life."

# # #

Draco noticed two things upon waking. First, it was morning, and second, Hermione was perceptibly absent from his bed. The only lingering reminder of her presence was the essence of lavender that lingered on her pillow. Uncharacteristically, he inhaled the scent and rolled away as he looked at the canopy overhead. Surprisingly, he felt both relief and longing in her absence. His mind began to race with questions, wondering first if she had any recollection of the night before. But he told himself he couldn't think of that now. He had a mission to seek her help to solve the curse that would end his life as a wizard. Considering his options, he'd much rather pick her brain than have her teaching to live like a Muggle if he failed. That was the alternative wasn't it? He prayed to any deity that was listening to spare him any awkwardness when he spoke to her later that morning.

Groaning as he fought against his aching muscles, he shuffled into the bathroom. The minuscule amounts of Firewhiskey from the night before had been a welcome sedative when he finally succumbed to sleep, but with Hermione there, he woke periodically to check on her, concerned for her wellbeing. And when Pansy finally made her appearance to fetch her at an early hour, Draco feigned sleep as Hermione slipped carefully from him. It was easy to pretend, having had years of practice. However, when they left, he longed for her presence which ultimately confused him. Draco didn't fancy the girl, he simply enjoyed her company, having the first night of dreamless sleep that he could remember in ages. It was strange to have a reprieve from the unrelenting nightmares that plagued him and wondered if his presence had the same placating effect on her as well. It was no secret that she faced her own nightly terrors. With his room next to hers, he often awoke to her deafening screams as she cried out at night. Nevertheless, he thought not to dwell on it nor to seek answers that would only lead to more questions.

Stripping his clothes off from the night before, he stepped into the scalding hot spray of the shower and accepted the relief it gave. Another worry that consumed him was that of Theo. Draco would have to make an appearance at breakfast soon with that he would have to face his friend. Unlike Granger, alcohol couldn't be blamed for his friend's abhorrent behavior. Theo was rotten and cruel at times although Draco hadn't always thought of him that way. As clever as any two Slytherins could be, they shared equal enjoyment in their youth as they tormented Muggles and Muggleborns alike. They spoke ill of them, calling them fifth and Mudbloods, sending whatever creative hexes they could cast their way.

But Draco was a changed man now. He had experienced first hand many things that forced him to question everything that had been pounded into him since birth. Including one Hermione Granger who managed to shattered his misconceptions beautifully. Everyone bled the same no matter their status, but Theo remained sadly unaware of that fact. He was consumed with prejudice with no desire to change. Theo would likely remain civil to Hermione for his sake, but Draco wondered if his friend would resort to his old ways, perhaps taking the opportunity to hurt Hermione if he had the chance. While Pansy and Blaise didn't always see through Theo's carefully crafted facade, it was Draco who sensed the unwavering animosity that bubbled dangerously below the surface.

Basking in the warmth of his shower while carefully cultivating his thoughts, he strained against the sound of water as he heard someone pounding at his bedroom door. Closing the spigot, he quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and ran to the door, opening it wide to find Blaise with a bored look gracing his features.

"About time you answered," he said as he whisked by Draco. "Pansy's waiting with Granger in the common room. We're going down to breakfast. Ready to face her?"

"Please don't tell me she remembers," Draco groaned as he closed the door behind his friend.

"It seems all too well that you do, mate," Blaise countered.

"I was the sober one," Draco pointed out. "Answer the question."

"Well, I could be wrong, but she seems... normal?"

"Normal?"

"Well, she apologized," Blaise said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Apologized?"

"Yes, and are you going to keep repeating me?"

"Maybe. What did she say?" Draco asked.

"She asked for a blanket pardon and said she forgot most of the evening. You're off the hook, mate."

Draco let out the breath he was holding and nodded as he darted back into the adjacent room. After several minutes, he appeared fully dressed and groomed. Depositing the previous day's clothes in a basket left for the house-elves, he ran his hand through his hair as he gave himself one final inspection in a full length mirror.

"Done preening now? Food's getting cold," Blaise said as he gazed at his friend's reflection. "I'm sure you can impress Granger later."

"Piss off," Draco said. "You only wish you looked half as good."

"Says the man who had his first snog last night," Blaise snorted with amusement.

Changing the subject, Draco looked at Blaise. "Is Theo there?"

"No," Blaise said coolly. "I don't expect we'll be seeing him today."

"Alright. Let's go," Draco said as the two traipsed out of the room.

Landing at the base of the stairs in the common room, Draco saw Hermione huddled with Pansy as the two whispered to one another. They were giggling between words and for once, Draco found the tinkle of their laughter to be far less annoying than the night before.

"Malfoy," Hermione greeted warmly. Her cheeks were slightly tinged with color as she forced herself to look him in the eye while Pansy elbowed her.

Draco looked briefly at his shoes as he returned the greeting. "Granger," he said.

"Well, I'm starving," Pansy said quickly to break the tension. "Are you coming?" she asked as she looked at Hermione. The Gryffindor nodded and followed the girl through the portrait as they made their way toward the Great Hall.

Following behind, Draco and Blaise said nothing as they listened to the amusing banter of the two girls in front of them. Pansy spoke of fashion and promises to take her friend on a shopping spree in Paris. Hermione nodded politely but grimaced when she looked the other way. Draco thought with amusement of how Hermione didn't seem the type that would immerse herself in fashion unlike Pansy. Books were her thing entirely, and he was certain the know-it-all Gryffindor could camp out in Flourish and Blotts for days if allowed.

As they approached the large doors of the Great Hall, Hermione paused for a moment while internalizing some sort of dilemma. Draco sensed her reluctance to enter and requested a moment with her as his friends waited further down the corridor.

"What's the matter now, Granger?" the blond asked as he towered in front of her.

"I wanted to apologize. For last night."

"I'm not quire sure what you're talking about, but I'll bite," Draco said, playing along. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"

"Well, it's a blanket apology, really," she said nervously as she swept a lock of hair behind her ear, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"A blanket apology," he repeated slowly.

"Yes. I forgot most of last night. Well, before I woke up in your bed," she said, lowering her voice. "And I wanted to apologize for anything that may have caused embarrassment amongst your friends."

"Nothing happened, Granger," he offered in a bored tone.

"I mean before that. I know nothing happened while I was with you. In bed, that is. And thank you by the way," she said quickly as her fingers fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "For taking care of me. It was careless of me to drink so much." Hermione prayed that Draco accepted her apology without forcing the mention of specifics.

"Don't worry yourself," he smirked. "Blanket apology accepted. I hope you had an enjoyable birthday."

Hermione visibly relaxed at his acceptance and let out an agreeable sigh. Satisfied, that they avoided any awkwardness, she took several steps toward Blaise and Pansy before Draco called out behind her.

"Granger?"

_Damn, _she thought as he turned on her heel to face him.

"Yes, Malfoy?" she asked as she forced herself to smile.

"Sit with us?"

"Are you asking me to sit with you at the Slytherin table?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure? That sounded more like a question than an answer," she said with mild reproach.

"Yes, then," Draco said as he narrowed his eyes at the witch in front of him.

"Thanks for the offer, Malfoy, but I'll pass. Everyone will stare."

"And they don't now, Granger?"

"They'll talk."

"They talk anyway," he said, raising one perfectly groomed brow at the ridiculousness of her statements.

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not a good enough reason, Malfoy," she whined while stomping her foot in protest.

"Bloody hell, you're a stubborn witch," he groaned. "Look, you can go in there and sit by yourself while everyone stares at you or you can come sit with us and give them a reason to. You're choice. I just thought you'd like the company for a change. Sorry I asked," he snapped at her before walking away.

Hermione stood frozen in place, unsure of what to think of his offer but knew she had been unreasonable and irritated him when she declined his offer. However, by the time she came to her senses, she concluded that she was all alone. Hermione felt a pang of disappointment, realizing that the only friends she had made that year had left without her.

Holding her head high, Hermione glided into the Great Hall and paused as she surveyed the four tables in front of her. The tormentors and naysayers of her existence whispered amongst themselves as she fought off their uncomfortable stares, and for the first time ever, she turned away from the Gryffindor table and approached her three friends before sliding gracefully into the spot next to Blaise. She ignored the stunned silence that filled the Hall and nodded as she greeted wordless each of her friends.

"So good of you to join us, Granger," Draco muttered rudely as Pansy elbowed him in the side.

"All right there?" Blaise asked as he helped pile Hermione's plate with food.

As her gazed locked with Draco's, Hermione gave a smile that reached her eyes and said, "Never better."

* * *

**A/N:** Read, review, yadda yadda. Wanted to cover Hermione's birthday without all the unnecessary filler leading up to it. Thought better to explain the aftermath and let my readers will in the blanks leading up to it.

Also, I mistakenly placed the rating of this story as T instead of M for upcoming chapters. This is a note indicating the change.


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